Family Matters
by tiacat11
Summary: Sometimes, when Sonic concentrates hard, he can remember glimpses and flashes of the family he lost as a child - a loving mother and a heroic father. Now he's off to find them and bring his family back together. He's in for a rude awakening. (There WILL be OCs, by definition.)
1. Congratulations

Doctor Ivo Robotnik looked up from the computer terminal where he was working. "You do realize I'm not that kind of doctor, don't you?" he questioned his guest.

His visitor, a young hedgehog woman, snorted and stomped her foot slightly. "I _know _that, Ivo," She retorted, boldly using his first name, as few around the area did. "But you're the only person around here who would actually know what the hell they're doing, and I really could care less about whether or not you're licensed."

"You could just visit the hospital in the village." Robotnik suggested, but he could tell just by the look on her face that was a bad suggestion.

"I don't like hospitals." She said flatly. "I don't even like you that much, but at least you're not so..." She trailed off for a moment, searching for the right word. "Bleached?"

Ivo 'tch'ed and rolled his eyes. Had it been anyone else who had said that to him, he would have been furious, but he knew the woman well enough to know her blunt statements were simply a side effect of her tendency to say whatever was on her mind. "Let me get this straight, Clary - you're willing to put yourself and potentially others in considerable danger just to avoid facing whatever phobias you have about hospitals?"

"I am _not _going to the hospital! They're too _clean, _too _white!_" Clary immediately ranted. "The second you step through those doors, you're no longer a person, just a _specimen _to them! Like you're just some common goods! It's maddening!"

Ivo threw up his hand in a calming gesture, and luckily she did actually calm, but not before throwing out an expletive or two first. _Her brain-to-mouth filter really _is _missing, isn't it? _Ivo thought to himself. Although he was not close with Clary, or indeed any of the sapients that lived in the village just a few miles down the road from him, he did see her on a semi-regular basis, and out of all of the people living down there, he had to admit he did probably like her more than the others. It was most likely because of this that he put up with her... outspoken personality.

"I have money." She bargained. "Plenty of it. I bet it could keep your projects running for quite some time. Ivo..." she continued quieter, dropping her gaze for a moment, just a moment. The hedgehog was far too proud to beg, or even to say 'please,' but this was something she truly needed.

Now Ivo was both slightly impressed and annoyed. He too was fully aware of the girl's tremendous pride, and the amount of effort it must have took for that simple plead. He was also aware that she had struck a nerve with him in talks of money. Funding for his projects was rather difficult for him, not because what he did wasn't impressive enough, but because he lacked the people skills to win potential investors over. It was part of the reason why he lived so far away from others. Although he tried to fight it, he couldn't stop his eyes from lingering over several of his prototypes scattered around his workshop. A small ladybug-looking contraption with a single wheel lay on one table, incomplete. A flying circular cockpit sat limp in the pit where he last worked on it, unable to continue working on the delicate, often microscopic, circuitry with his outdated tools. Finally, on one desk sat a whole mass of blueprints, each depicting a new and exciting project that were very unlikely to get off the ground for at least another few years. _Unless he could speed up the process. _

A heavy sigh escaped him as he realized the decision had already been made for him. "Very well."

A spark of excitement mixed with relief shot through her eyes, before she quickly composed herself, straightening up and nodding her head, as though that was the outcome she had been expecting all along. "Very well." She echoed. "Let's get started then, shall we?"

Ivo smiled to himself as he realized the decision had already been made the instant she walked through the door. After all, given her position, it would be unbearably callous, even by his standards, to turn her away.

"Where do you want me?" Clary asked, stepping into the lab.

Ivo pointed to a mostly-uncluttered lab table near one corner of his not-unimpressive lab. "Just move some things if you need to, I hardly ever touch that stuff anyway."

The hedgehog obediently strode over to the table, only needing to move one or two things before lightly hopping up on to the table with a catlike grace. Which was appropriate, given that she was half cat, on her mother's side. From this position she watched him dig through a couple boxes along the nearby wall.

The first box he pulled out looked to Clary to be an oversized stethoscope, but missing the earpieces. Instead cords ran and tangled into a rat's nest, leaving the ends somewhere in the box. The second almost resembled the screen one might find on a laptop computer, but missing the keyboard, or really any kind of button Clary could see. Ivo began talking while he continued hunting around in the boxes for a third.

"I created a device a few years ago, to help people see in the dark. A military contract, as I recall. The idea was, rather than try to amplify light, as my competitors were doing, I choose to go a different route. The machine works by emitting high-pitched frequencies, which then bounce off whatever objects they come into contact with and return to the sender. The machine would then record the sounds and calculate the time it took for them to return, and create a moving, if somewhat grainy picture based on those calculations. Genius, if I do say so myself. Mine was the only device to work in levels with absolutely no light at all."

"They could have just gotten bats, you know." Clary pointed out.

"Pardon?" Ivo said, momentarily forgetting his search.

"Bats." The hedgehog repeated. "My friend's one, she uses the exact same technique all the time. Echolocation, you know?"

"Yes, well..." Ivo coughed. "That _is _where I got the idea..."

Clary smiled. "It _is _impressive that you managed to take that evolutionary tool and make it into a thing everyone can use." She said, deciding to throw the doctor a bone.

Ivo scoffed. "I don't need your _pity._" he insisted, to Clary's amusement. Returning to his search, he finally found what he was looking for, pulling a long, black cord the width of his middle finger with bizarre plugs on the ends out of a huge tangle of others, finally getting off his knees and grabbing the other boxes, placing them on a counter near the table where his visitor was still waiting.

"This device will suit our needs well enough," Ivo said, pulling the stethoscope echolocation device out and plugging one end of the cord into it. "But rather than the night-vision goggles, I need something a tad more clear." He used a nearby screwdriver to pop the casing on the screen, exposing the wires. "As usual, the two devices I need aren't compatible, so I'm going to have to jury-rig this output cable to make it work properly..."

Around this time Clary zoned out, and only came back around when he made a noise to indicate he was done. "Are you ready?" He asked her.

She nodded, and tugged her shirt up until it only covered her breasts. "Don't peek." She ordered firmly, and lay back on the table. It was uncomfortable for her even without the cold steel biting into her bare back, as just the position she was in made her feel... exposed.

Ivo just snorted. "Believe me, Clary, even if you were my own species I wouldn't." he replied, then got to work. For several minutes he was totally silent as he went about his work, and Clary had to resist the urge to fidget, especially with the bizarre metal instrument pressed against her stomach. At first, he held it in just one place, focusing the picture on the screen, then he began to move it around some, first pressing into one side, then another, until Clary was one hundred percent sure he was drawing this out on purpose. Within around five minutes, though it seemed longer to the prone hedgehog, he finally switched the echolocation device off and returned to the screen, flipping it over so that Clary could see the image for herself. The image was in very blurry grayscale, and very few details could be made out, until Ivo pointed a finger at a circular patch darker than the surrounding area.

Clary swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry.

Ivo turned up the contrast a little on the screen, but in Clary's mind, she didn't need it. She already knew every minute detail of the patch on the screen. "Congratulations, Clary. You're pregnant."

* * *

She left the lab in a daze, not even bothering to barter with him on the amount of money for his unorthodox services. Not that she would have anyways, money always had a habit of burning a hole in her pocket. Her roommate would often joke and say she had expensive tastes, but honestly, Clary rarely even cared about her purchases. There was an entire closet in the three bedroom house the girls shared together dedicated to the things she had been dying to buy, and then forgot about the instant she got home.

Almost automatically Clary's mind shifted to the things she'd have to buy now: blankets, toys, clothes, a crib, _diapers... _her stomach twisted up in knots at the thought of it. How on Earth was _she _supposed to be a mother?

In a sense, she was grateful for the seclusion of the lab, as it gave her time to think before she had to entire the hustle and bustle of the village. The path was not steep, but it was uneven, overgrown with weeds and dotted with potholes. The whole dirt road had a tendency to sway side to side, as though the man who cleared it had been drunk. In short, it was the perfect challenge for Clary.

She dropped to one knee, lifting her body into the sprinter's position she knew so well, tensing up like an arrow, pointing straight down the road. On a silent gunshot, she sprang forward, letting the wind and momentum push her back upright, feeling her muscles bunch and fire in quick succession.

Taking her breaths in in short, quick gasps through slightly parted mouth, as she had been trained, she willed herself to go faster. Using techniques her father and uncle had taught her, she used everything from passing trees to the pounding of her footsteps to check her speed, and used _that _to push her even faster. Now she was going 60 miles an hour, now 70, now 90, one hundred. If she could move her face, she would smile. _Let's shoot for 150._

That was another technique they taught her: always go a little bit faster than you think you can. Memories flashed unbidden before her mind, memories of her and her father, and sometimes even her uncle, all running side by side, breaking records, doing tricks, daring each other to go faster, faster, faster. _Those were the days..._

She mentally shook her head and frowned. Those days weren't really _that _great, and besides that, they were over now.

She hit her mark just as she reached the edge of the road, her face stretched wide into a grin of triumphant satisfaction as she uses her momentum to clear a fallen tree at the edge, sailing over it and grinding her heels into the dirt on the other side to slow herself. Her victory pushing the negative thoughts out of her head, she tossed her quills over her shoulder, looking back the way she came. Although she still stressed over the day's events, the run had at least managed to help a little bit. Now, however, she was approaching the village, and one too many collisions with hapless pedestrians had taught her to take it slow while in densely populated areas, or at least what qualified as densely populated here on Christmas Island.

She snorted. Most of the people living here had done so all their lives, and she was willing to bet even the thought of the big cities that lay beyond was too much for them.

Although she had slowed up in order to avoid collisions, she still moved with brisk, sharp steps, at a pace that most people would have to jog to keep up with. She was in no hurry - it was simply in her nature not to dally anywhere. Clary's posture was perfect, her back straight, her shoulders thrown back, her chin up and eyes facing directly forward. Although she had no threatening look on her face, people passing by her unconsciously gave her a wide berth, some even stepping down from the curb into the street rather than face her head on.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clary saw her reflection in a shop window, and tossed her violet hair back into place, disheveled from her furious run. Although she was very beautiful in her own right, and entertained plenty of suitors, Clary looked anything but ordinary. Her rigid posture, combined with her natural height, gave her quite a few inches over most other Mobians, especially other hedgehogs. She certainly took after her father in terms of species, showing little cat traits save for slightly longer ears and a tail, but traces of her mother's white hair showed through the periwinkle of her normal fur, especially in her ears and around her chest. She was, in short, a sight to look at, and it was often only her sharp tongue and cold glares that insured she remained undisturbed when she wanted to be.

Her house wasn't far from the edge of the village, and she reached it within a few minutes. A quaint little two-story house with a flowerbed surrounding the porch (her roommate's doing - Clary herself was never much for gardening). The outside was not painted, if only for the simple reason that she and her could never agree on a color for it, but the wood was a good quality, and stood up to the weather well, and so Clary did not complain. Simple it was, but it was warm in the winter and cool in the summer, and that was all that mattered to her.

Opening the front door, she announced her arrival with a sarcastic "Lucy, I'm home!" before taking off her purple jacket and tossing it to the side, where it landed at the foot of the coat rack.

She found her roommate in the kitchen, doing the dishes from breakfast this morning. When they had first moved in, Clary had been unable to believe her luck at finding a roommate that actually _enjoyed _doing chores.

"Hey, Silvia, I'm back." Clary greeted.

"Did he agree to do it?" her roommate, a black cat about her age, asked, too curious to bother beating around the bush. "What was the diagnosis?"

Clary sucked in a deep breath as she tossed herself into her usual spot at the table. "Affirmative."

Silvia whistled lowly, unable to come up with words. "Well, then."

"Ugh." Clary flopped her head on the table.

"Melodramatic as ever." Silvia noted, rolling her eyes and turning around to go rifling through the cupboards.

"This is _important, _Silv. What am I gonna do?" the hedgehog groaned.

"You know, most women your age are ecstatic that they'll be new mothers." Silvia said, pulling a teakettle down and moving to fill it up.

"Don't say the 'M' word!"

"You're having a baby, Clary, you're already kind of a mother." Silvia continued, filling the kettle in the sink.

"Don't say the 'B' word either!"

"_Now _you're being ridiculous." Silvia said. She set the kettle on, turned on the stove, and went to sit across from her at the table. "Like it or not, you're in this situation, and you might as well make the best of it. You have the funds to raise a child?"

A slight nod from Clary.

"You have the house already; we could convert the guest room into a nursery pretty easily."

Another nod, this time thoughtful.

"You think Doctor Robotnik would be willing to continue giving assistance?"

Clary cleared her throat and spoke up. "He might take some convincing, but... I think so, yes."

"Alright then." It was Silvia's turn to nod. "There you go. You have money, you have a nursery, you have an obstetrician slash pediatrician. What else do you need?"

This time, there was a slight 'thunk' as Clary's head hit the table. "It's not even that," she complained, "It's... me! I mean, look at me, Sil! How am _I _supposed to be a mother? I can't keep my temper under control, I'm always rushing around, I'd have _no _time to change diapers or kiss boo-boos, or whatever it is mom's do! I'd be hopeless as a mother!"

"Then learn." Silvia said coolly, standing to fetch the teapot off the stove and began pouring the hot water into two mugs.

"From who?" Clary asked.

"You have one, don't you?" Silvia retorted. "Why not ask her?"

It was probably a good thing that she was turned away from the hedgehog, as the look on Clary's face could be described as nothing short of murderous. "I will _not _speak with any them for any reason." She all but spat. "They are all exactly where I want them: out of my life."

"Alright, alright." Silvia surrendered. "If you're so sure, you may as well just rely on your own maternal instincts. Even someone like you should have them." When Clary opened her mouth to object, she quickly blocked her. "Or you could ask one of the local gossips around town. Take Ruth, she's got, like, eight kids."

_That _shut up her argument quickly, as Silvia knew her roommate's obvious distain for the loose lipped (among other things) gossip known as Ruth. She and a group of her peers were often seen on the front porch of their houses smoking cigarettes and taking turns shouting hoarsely at whatever child happened to be acting up, or shopping the flea market with an entire herd of wild haired, dirty kids in tow. Although no one in town knew more about pregnancies than she, it was highly unlikely Clary would ever ask her for anything, much less child rearing tips.

"...Fine." Clary mumbled, recognizing her own arguments had backed her into a corner. "Maybe I do have some inner mom in me somewhere. I know I'll do a better job than _my_ mother, at least." She comforted herself.

"And you'll have me for help." Silvia said, pulling a teabag out of one of the cups and turning to give it to Clary. She sat down again, leaving her own teabag still in. When Clary looked confused, Silvia just laughed. "What? Did you think I was just going to sit around and watch you try to raise the kid by yourself? I'm your roommate, Clary, I'm pretty sure I couldn't stay out of this if I tried."

For a long moment, Clary just seemed vaguely shocked, then a smile slowly spread across her face, as though she wasn't sure she was supposed to smile or not. "Thanks." She said softly.

Silvia just smiled in return, then took a deep breath. "And... do you know who the father is?"

Clary hung her head. "He's the reason why I don't want to carry the baby. I _know _he'll use it against me."

"How do you use a _baby _against a person?" Silvia wondered out loud.

"Alright, maybe not _against _me," Clary relented, "But for his own argument. See, I slept with him a little bit ago, and... It was probably an error on my part. He was really sweet and all, and he was a real gentleman, and I guess I was lonely that night, but..." Clary met her roommate's eyes. "He's in love with me. I mean, _in love. _And I... just don't feel that way. I just wanted a fling, Y'know? But I guess he saw it as something more, because ever since then, he's been trying to get me to see him regularly... you know, as his girlfriend."

A small 'ah' from Silvia. "And knowing he had a child with you would only cement that feeling."

She nodded. "I really didn't mean to go that far, but... I don't want a child with him. He's going to want to raise it with me, and that means he'll see me more, and that means he'll think even more that there's some kind of chance for us, and he'll start acting like we're married..." She trailed off into space.

"So what we need to do is make it obvious with him that you intend to raise this child on your own." Silvia said smoothly, cutting into whatever trouble was distracting her roommate now.

Clary looked back at her, vaguely confused. "But I thought you said...?"

Silvia shook her head. "That doesn't mean we need to tell _him _that. Trust me, men are all the same: give them an inch and they'll take a mile. You want him to stay out, you need to act like you want _everyone _to stay out."

"Right." Clary said, with more conviction than she thought. It was strange, she reflected, how similar talking about raising children and dodging unwanted boyfriends could sound so much like fitting out a battle strategy. Maternity and romance were new to her, but plots and strategies for using people were. The father would be less of a problem than an annoyance, and the child...

Later, when she was a little bit older, Clary would look on this day, this moment sitting there at the kitchen table with the roommate who she would one day call sister, this was the first moment she felt like she could actually _do _this.


	2. A letter from Nowhere

**Look! A chapter! See, I'm doing things with my life! **

**...**

**Yes, it's short. I see that. **

**Anyway, I'd like to thank both Google images and Deviantart artist Clyra the Wolf for providing me with the map I used for determining Sonic's path here, and probably providing me with amazing references to come. Bless you, Clyra. The less I have to think, the better off we all are. If anyone cares to look up the map and follow along with me, I'll be using the unnamed island in the middle of the Mobius Ocean (directly under the "A") as Christmas Island.**

**Also, as my author's notes didn't appear last chapter, I'd like to take a minute to thank shinyshiny9 for her help in building Clary's character, as well as basic plot points and concepts. Everyone give your best third-grade "Thank you!" shout - she deserves it.**

**Oh, and yeah, something about not owning Sonic (does it even matter? Doesn't the fact that it is posted on fanfiction dot net tell you something?) so I don't get sued or whatever. I've read the news, they've got MUCH bigger fish to fry.**

* * *

_patpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpatpat_

His feet kicked out a steady rhythm as he flew past the outskirts of Station Square, following a dirt track that lead in a winding path up the hilly terrain. He had run this path plenty of times before, and felt more than comfortable doing kicks, flips, jump-offs, and even grinds as he pushed himself. When he left this morning, the large analog clock in Central Plaza read 8:14. His goal was run the entire track and be back in the plaza by 8:20. Regretfully, he stopped doing tricks on the old-style ranch fences that lined this rural area, and focused instead on going faster.

He was now approaching the halfway point, a large windmill with a base diameter of around 20 feet. The hilly landscape was dotted with them, the result of a progressive movement to provide the city with cleaner energy. The track lead in a wide circle around the main one, and then turned around and went back the way it came. To a normal jogger, this arc would barely even seem to curve, but to a hedgehog moving at the speed of sound, this was far too little room to maneuver. Of course, that was why Sonic loved this route so much - he enjoyed the challenge.

When he was first starting out on the track, he would try to keep his body as upright as possible, in the hopes that that would prevent him from losing balance and falling over, but he figured out over time it did just the opposite. As soon as he started on the circle's curve, he veered sharply, leaning over almost diagonally and letting his momentum keep him from hitting the ground. Even with his hardest efforts to follow the curve, he still wound up going into the grass near the end of the U-turn, but didn't slip, which he was grateful for.

With the most difficult obstacle now cleared, he felt free to pour on the gas and try to make the time he set for himself, feet underneath him moving so fast he couldn't even distinguish individual footsteps, as the world around him slowly dissolved into a blur of color and sound. Though he himself outran it, he knew any passerby in the area would hear the characteristic sonic boom. Not that that meant too much - most folks in the area were well adjusted to The Hero of Mobius' comings and goings.

Finally, the grassy landscape gave way to concrete buildings, and Sonic switched from the dirt track to asphalt. Pushing himself hard into one final burst of speed, he vaulted over a parked car in the way, slamming his feet on the middle of Central Plaza, eyes already darting up to the clock which read -

"Eight-Twenty!" Sonic cheered, pumping his fist.

"Break your record, Sonic?" Called a strange but friendly voice behind him.

"You know it!" Sonic turned back and flashed a thumbs-up to the man, a middle-aged badger working a hot dog stand.

"Glad to hear it." The badger said. "How 'bout one on the house to celebrate?"

"Well, I never turn down a free chili dog..." Sonic said with fake modesty, then gratefully accepted. "Thanks a bunch!"

The badger chuckled. "Sonic the Hedgehog comes and eats at _my _stand, and _you're _thanking _me?_"

He grinned, finishing off the last of it with a single bite - chili dogs never lasted long around him. "Keep making 'em like this and you'll get _lots _of thanks!"

After saying goodbye to the badger, who Sonic learned was named Phil, the rest of the morning was spent in a similar fashion, focusing first on speed, then agility, and finally strength. Sonic never bothered with endurance anymore, as he was able to keep running for so long his energy reserves seemed virtually endless, at least as far as running was concerned.

By the time lunch had rolled around, he had worked up quite an appetite, and was quite glad for the text message he received from Tails inviting him to lunch with him and Amy. He didn't bother to text a reply, as within thirty seconds he was at the diner Tails had specified. "Did somebody say 'lunch'?" He said, smiling. Tails laughed as Amy slid over.

There was a plate of nachos sitting in the middle while the others waited on their meal, and Sonic went ahead and helped himself as Amy flagged down a waiter to bring him a menu. "Did we interrupt anything?" She asked.

"Nah, not much." Sonic replied. "I was doing some early morning exercises."

Tails glanced at his watch.

"That turned into all-day workouts." Sonic finished.

"Now if only I could get that kind of work ethic when I need help around the lab." Tails joked, and the others chuckled.

The next twenty minutes or so were spent making small talk and eating lunch (Sonic mooching off the other's plates when they were done). While Amy had mellowed out considerably in recent years, it was still a little bit awkward for them to hang out just the two of them together, so they were grateful for Tails' company helping turn it into a normal date between friends.

"So wait, you went _where_?" Amy said, her fork paused before her mouth.

"I'm telling you, Mystic Mountains is the best place this side of the prime meridian to practice vertical climbs." Sonic insisted. "It's got sheer cliffs for speed, it's got some sharp canyons for in-and-outs, it's even got a couple loops! It's perfect for training."

"Didn't they just reclaim that as part of the Northern Continent?" Tails asked.

"So?" Sonic replied. "I don't really have any true loyalty to the East Continent, or even to Station Square, even though if I live here, I just go where-"

"No, I mean, how'd you get there?" Tails said.

"I ran." Sonic said, as if to say, _duh._

"Don't you need a passport to get into the Northern Continent?" Amy asked.

"Passport?" Sonic asked, his face completely blank.

"Yeah. Passport." Tails repeated. "You know, that thing you have, that lets you go to other countries?"

"Why would I need that?" Sonic asked. "Usually 'out of the way, Eggman's headed towards the city!' is the only passport I need."

"Did you seriously never have one?" Amy asked. "Like, never even thought about getting one?"

"Well, I thought about it once," Sonic admitted, "But seeing as I have citizenship, um," his eyes flicked up for a moment as he thought, "Nowhere, it was kind of a moot point."

"What about your birthplace?"

Sonic shrugged. "Never knew it. The first place I ever remember being in is Green Hill Zone, and by then I was... Five? Six?"

"What about your birth certificate?" Tails asked. "There's gotta be a birthplace there, right?"

"Birth certificate?"

"Yeah." When it was clear Sonic was still confused, Tails continued. "You got a letter several months ago asking about your birth certificate. Something about if you wanted it renewed into an adult ID."

"When was this?" Sonic demanded, suddenly urgent.

Tails, taken slightly aback, answered, "A-a couple months ago. You always put me down as your mailing address, so I get all your letters. I didn't see it as being too important, so I put it in your file and forgot about it. I'm... I'm sorry, Sonic, I should have said something sooner."

Sonic ran his hand through his quills, suddenly very agitated. "It's fine, Tails. Hey, would it still be there? The letter, I mean?"

"I never throw anything that's addressed to you out, unless I know for sure it's just junk." Tails answered. All your letters go into the filing cabinet in the off-" There was no point in continuing anymore, as he had already run off.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Amy asked uncertainly after a brief pause, her salad forgotten.

Tails scrunched up his nose. "I think so."

Sonic returned after about ten minutes, an eternity for the speedy hedgehog. "I got it." He said triumphantly, ripping the envelope open with his plastic knife and spreading the letter out on the table.

He began to read aloud as Tails and Amy craned their necks to see.

"Dear Sonic the Hedgehog," he began.

"Our records indicate you are now 16 years of age. Congratulations on making it into adulthood."

"Adulthood?" Amy wondered.

"The age of majority might be different there." Tails suggested.

"In order to prove your newfound independence, it is best that you return to your hospital of birth as quickly as possible and claim your birth certificate. This can then be used to obtain your state-issued ID. If for any reason you wish to move out of state, you may renounce your citizenship at that time. Remember only birth citizens are entitled to hold office, as well as receive welfare and increased health benefits from work. It is advised that you reply to this letter promptly, as our records indicate you have not visited the hospital for some time, and further research may be required.

We hope to see you soon, Mayor S.C. Wolfe." he finished, looking up at the two friends earnestly.

"Well?" he said.

"Well what?" Tails asked.

"Do you think it's legit?"

"Well..." Tails hesitated, studying the paper closely, more to humor Sonic than to really check for clues. "I can't think of a reason why it wouldn't be. I mean, it _looks_... legit... and I can't think of a reason why someone would want to forge it. Sonic..." Tails looked up, meeting his best friend's eyes. "Is this what I think it is?"

"This is my chance." Sonic said seriously. "This is my chance to find my dad again! To figure out where I came from! Tails-" he smacked his finger down on the paper. "This is it!"

Tails took a deep breath in, then out. "Alright then. We check it out."

"We?" Sonic asked, genuinely taken aback.

"Of course, Silly!" Amy exclaimed. "We're your friends, I'm pretty sure we couldn't stay out of this if we tried!"

"Thanks, you guys." Sonic said with a soft smile.

"What's the address on the letter?" Tails asked. Sonic retrieved the envelope he had tossed aside in his haste and turned it over.

"City Hall, 100 Main Street... Christmas Island?"

"I've never heard of that place." Amy said.

"Me neither." Tails agreed. "But the library's not far - let's go check it out."

Christmas Island, as it turned out, was smack dab in the middle of the Mobian ocean, approximately 3100 miles off the coast of Green Island. While Sonic had been less than pleased at the word island, he visibly balked at the thought of being that far away from land, and was even more unhappy when he discovered it was "only" 250 miles long.

"But that's hardly any room at all!" He protested. "How am I supposed to run?"

"You could do laps." Amy suggested.

Although he didn't say anything more, the look of distaste was evident on his face, not unlike when she insisted on cooking him healthy food for a change.

"Alright." Tails said, too absorbed in the pile of books at his table to hear their discussion. "I think I know where it is now, at least."

"Can you find it?" Sonic asked.

"I should be able to, yeah. The coordinates aren't exact, but it's the general location."

"Okay." Sonic took a deep breath. "So what now?"

Tails looked up. "Now? You get fuel for the plane, Amy makes plans for when we're gone, and I'm going to start preparations on the Tornado. We can leave as early as tomorrow."

* * *

**Subtle? What's that, some kind of fruit? Anyway, let me know what you think so far, ways to improve, etc, etc. -TC**


	3. Upon Arrival

**Ugh. See, this is the part I knew I would grow to hate: making sure my OCs don't get in the way of the main characters. But at the same time, they need **_**someone **_**to interact with to move the plot along and- Bah! Whatever. Let me know how you feel about the OCs in this chapter, or any of them really, I'm always up for some constructive criticism.**

**On the topic of OCs, perhaps I should have made myself clearer in the summary: I'm not **_**looking **_**for OCs, I'm making my own and putting them into the story. I've got a couple people asking to be inserted into the story, and I'm worried that was my fault. Sorry. I put that warning into the summary so that people who dislike OCs can be warned ahead of time, as I know it's just not some people's cup of tea. Sorry for any confusion.**

**On a completely unrelated topic, I can't help but laugh at my search history after writing this chapter, as it involves flight times and layovers, what exactly a cravat is and how to tie one (think Miles Edgeworth for any of you Phoenix Wright fans out there), and a full five Google searches trying to figure out what those weird beds-that-look-like-couches things are (they're called daybeds, for anyone who doesn't know and would like to). Being a writer involves doing serious research. I guess.**

* * *

"There it is." Tails said, breaking the near two-and-a-half-hour-long silence. Sonic pulled out his earbuds as Amy marked her place in her book, then gazed down at the patch of green amidst the swirling blue.

"Christmas Island," Sonic breathed, his eyes glued to the window, and Amy couldn't help but tear her gaze away from the island to look at him. The look on his face was not unlike the one he made just before he jumped off a high cliff, or made the first move against Eggman's newest robot - his face unnaturally stiff, breathing too regular, eyes focused and unwavering, taking in everything at once.

She allowed herself just the briefest moment to reflect on that look, the way it made her heart - the way it used to make her heart move. She allowed herself to remember for just one moment how much she would have given to be with him every time he made the plunge, every time he stared down his opponent. She allowed herself one moment - then she returned to looking at the island.

"How long before we can land?" She asked Tails, but he was fully absorbed in a plug-in headset, mumbling technical jargon she didn't understand into an attached microphone and listening to equally unintelligible babble from an official-sounding male voice from the speakers. From the little she had seen in the movies, she gathered he was receiving landing instructions.

It took less than half an hour for them to land and gather their belongings, and even less time for them to go through what qualified as a security check in the tiny airport that seemed manned by less than one hundred people.

"So now what?" Tails asked, as they recovered their bags from the Tornado. Despite not knowing how long they would be here, they were traveling light, and only had between the three of them a backpack and three small suitcases (two of which belonged to Amy, who both wore clothes _and _had a tendency to overprepare).

"Well," Sonic said, scratching his ear, "I guess the first thing to do would be to find that hospital and see what they have on record, and I guess after that find a hotel..."

"What do you think about getting a bite to eat, too?" Amy suggested. "All I've had today was that muffin, and that was this morning."

"Yeah, that's a good-" Sonic agreed, but stopped short when he saw a stranger heading directly towards him. He was flanked on both sides by bodyguards, and it was this itself that drew his attention. Before he came too close to the group, however, they stopped short, and waited politely while the stranger strode a few more steps to greet them.

"Sonic the Hedgehog, I take it?" He said, smiling strangely and shaking Sonic's hand without waiting for him to speak.

"Yeah, that's me." Sonic said. A part of him was curious how the man knew his name, but he brushed it off. Word of his exploits had really taken off lately no matter how hard he dodged the press, so he supposed his fame had preceded him yet again.

"Wonderful!" He exclaimed, still beaming, and turned to Sonic's friends. "And who might you be?"

"Miles Prower." Tails answered, using his real name without exactly knowing why. Perhaps it was the intimidating bodyguards still lurking back a couple yards, or perhaps it was being caught off guard by having his hand shook nearly the instant he extended it.

"Excellent, excellent, fantastic to meet you! And you, miss?" he added, turning to her.

Amy smiled sweetly, offering her hand before he had time to grab it. "Amy Rose." She said, then blushed and giggled when the stranger, rather than vigorously shake her hand as he had the others, bowed slightly and kissed her fingers.

"A pleasure to meet you." He replied politely, straightening.

"Likewise." Amy replied, her other hand now covering her mouth as she fought back a grin. While he obviously took it for girlish modesty, she was in fact trying to control her laughter at such an antiquated act.

"And you are?" Sonic asked.

"Ah, yes, forgive me! I may have gotten ahead of myself there!" The man said. "My name is Sebastian Wolfe, and I'm the mayor of Christmas village, and, well, the whole island, as a matter of fact."

"Ah." Sonic said neutrally, and now Amy understood the reason for Sebastian's odd smile. The man was a wolf. While dogs and cats generally resembled the average Mobian a little more closely, their wilder counterparts still showed traits of their feral roots. It was agreed a quite a long time ago that while more anthropomorphic animals could adopt human body language quite easily, a predator baring one's canines to another person tended to have the opposite of the desired effect. As such the decorum changed that those with fangs or large teeth kept their lips drawn over their teeth when smiling, so as not to unsettle their companions.

Mayor Wolfe was dark grey over most of his body, with a black mane running over his back and sides, as well as his ears. He was wearing a stuffy plumb suit, complete with a cravat, which Amy couldn't help but think seemed a little hot for the weather, and shoes that had just been shined. Clearly this man prided himself on appearances, and took great pains to ensure he made a good impression on everyone he met.

"I had heard of your arrival," Wolfe continued, "and I wanted to welcome you myself." He spread his arms, as if greeting a long lost relative. "Welcome home, Sonic!"

"Thanks." Sonic smiled at him genuinely for the first time. His words echoed in his ears: _welcome home._

It had been such a long time since he had ever been _home_, so to speak, and now... "It's good to be home."

"I bet it is." Wolfe said warmly.

"We were hoping to check into a hotel before we go to the hospital records." Tails said. "Do you know where we could find one?"

"Oh, certainly!" Wolfe replied. "In fact, I had already made arrangements myself. It's an inn, actually, and I didn't know you'd be having company, so I only booked one room. Seeing as it's the off season, though, I'm sure it wouldn't be too much of a hassle to rent another."

"That's great!" Tails exclaimed. "One less thing to worry about!"

"I _do _have a bit of an ulterior motive, though." Wolfe admitted. "I was hoping that perhaps you'd join me for lunch in my office? There was some matters I had hoped to discuss with you."

"Well, we were pretty hungry." Tails said.

"Lead the way." Sonic agreed.

With the bodyguards (one another wolf, and the other a salamander) tailing behind and to the sides of them, Mayor Wolfe lead them through the village, down a large avenue (cobblestone, no less) which the others took to be Main Street. It was lined with small shops and stalls, each painted a variety of colors. Many storeowners were busy setting up large Christmas lights and festive banners, while others were content to simply clean.

"Something must be going on, if everyone's so busy." Amy noted.

As they walked, men and women looked up from whatever they were doing to stare, although not in an unfriendly way. Whenever Sonic caught their eye, they always gave a little smile, or waved. A huge, bulky man even set down the large crate he was carrying just to wave at him. Smiling, he winked back.

They could see City Hall from quite a ways off, as it towered above all the other shops in the area. Looking at it reminded Sonic of pictures he had seen of The White House, albeit on a smaller scale. It appeared Mayor Wolfe's desire to impress extended to more than just his wardrobe. As Wolfe fiddled with the keys, Sonic nudged Tails' side with his elbow, leaning in to whisper into his ear.

"How much you wanna bet he's compensating for something?" he murmured.

"_Sonic!" _Tails hissed back, blushing.

"Alright then!" Wolfe cried, clapping his hands together as he opened the front door. "Everyone coming in?"

"Coming!" Sonic said innocently, following him in. The interior was exactly how Sonic had pictured it, and he was tempted to repeat his joke to Amy, but he thought better of it.

The Mayor's office was in the back room, and took up two full stories. A huge glass pane window stretched along the back wall, taking up most of the space there, and extended up into a wide arc that almost reached the ceiling. A high-backed swivel chair sat in front of an expansive desk which Sonic was 70% sure had _not _come from the island. To his surprise, there was no computer sitting on the desk, just a stack of paperwork.

"So, I had hoped to get ahold of you before you had a chance to go to the hospital, as I had wanted to discuss something important with you." Wolfe said conversationally, grabbing an honest-to-God silver platter and china tea set from a table sitting off to the side. He poured one out for each of his guests, plus himself, and brought it to them, along with cucumber sandwiches. Sonic took the tea out of politeness, but left the sandwich, while the others took portions of both.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" Sonic asked.

"Well, have you ever heard of The Seasons Festival?" Wolfe asked. When the three of them shook their heads, he continued. "The Seasons Festival is a little over a week-long festival dedicated to celebrating the passage of time. It's quite fitting, and indeed fortunate, that you chose to arrive when you did, as I think it's perfect for you. We begin with a three day period to look back on the past. This is a chance to reconnect with our old family and friends, as well as visit old homes and schools."

"Like you said, sounds perfect." Sonic agreed.

"Absolutely." Wolfe said, beaming again. "I'm sure you're eager to see your childhood home, and what has become of it."

"So, you said the festival was a week?" Tails asked. "What about the other days?"

"Well," Wolfe said, turning to him, "The next three days are spent in the present, examining and admiring all that we have. It's very common for people to try new things on those three days, as it's when we are most reminded that life is fleeting. The final three days are spent looking towards the future - it's a little like your New Years, in fact, with people making resolutions to better themselves, and passing out cards with our wishes and hopes for the future written on them. The festival is usually only open to citizens of Christmas Island," he added, "but I'm sure we can make an exception on the part of you and your guests, given your... unique situation."

"That's great!" said Amy. "When does it start?"

"Two days from now." he replied. "Enough time to get your things together and unpack before things get moving - I'm sure you saw everyone preparing during our walk."

"That's right!" Amy said. "I saw them hanging up those lights!"

Wolfe nodded. "You should see the shops at night. Each shop will have its own booth set up on Main Street, from here all the way to the end, and the lights all click on at exactly the same time. All the lights, and lanterns, and even candleholders for the more traditional!" he sighed happily. "It looks like the heavens themselves have descended onto the ground and lit up with stars!"

"I agree, it sounds wonderful!" Amy replied, her eyes seeming to shine just as Wolfe had described. She turned to the others. "Oh, you guys, we _have _to go!"

Sonic shrugged and laughed. "I guess as long as we're here, we might as well!"

"Excellent! Wonderful!" Wolfe said, clapping his hands together as Sonic had noticed was his habit. "Well, I've already had my secretary call ahead and order that extra room for you - I do hope you don't mind, there was only one left. Here are the directions." He added, handing out three slips of paper with the inn's address written on them to each of them in turn. "If you have any questions, or if you need anything, anything at all, _please _don't hesitate to come by and ask! I'll be working all up to the day of the festival, and since it only takes place after sunset, I'll be here before then as well."

"Alright, thanks a ton." Tails said. "We really appreciate everything you've done for us."

"Yeah, thanks." Sonic echoed.

"Nothing at all, no trouble!" Wolfe insisted. But as the trio were starting to file out, he called out one more time. "Sonic, if I could have just one more minute?"

Sonic, who had followed the others and already had one foot out the door, paused. "Yeah, okay." he agreed. Turning around to the other two he tossed his head in their direction. "You guys go on ahead." he said. "I'll catch up."

"Kay." Tails said.

"See you later."

He waited until the others had shut the door to speak, his brows knitted together. "I must admit, Sonic, there was one more thing I wanted to speak to you about, but I'm afraid it's a bit less happy and a bit more difficult to say." His overly peppy attitude was gone, which was frankly something Sonic was grateful for, but Sonic couldn't help but feel worried at the troubled expression on Wolfe's face. "I assume you did not come here simply to claim your birth certificate." Sonic slowly shook his head no. "I figured as much. It's only natural, given that you were so young when you left the island. I only heard about you until long after you were gone, so I don't know much about the circumstances surrounding your disappearance. I can of course understand your desire to know more about your roots, but... Sonic, I must ask you to be careful."

"Why's that?" Sonic asked, careful to keep his expression neutral.

Wolfe sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Listen... When you left... No, around the time that you left, you mustn't think it had anything to do with you, there was... a serious incident."

"An incident." Sonic repeated.

"Yes." Wolfe replied. "An incident. A tragedy, if I must say. I cannot say much - it's bad that I've told you this much already. But understand that that event is still fresh in the mind of many of the citizens here. It took a long time, and a lot of strong leadership to pull them out of that time and into the future. I want to help you, Sonic: it's the least I can do for you, living all these years alone. But for you to go around, digging up relics of the past... Well, you understand what I'm getting at, don't you?"

"You think I shouldn't ask about what happened to me?" Sonic asked.

"Not at all, not at all!" Wolfe said, wringing his hands. "Just... do promise you'll be careful, alright? We don't need... The wrong people hearing things and taking them out of context."

"I'm never careful." Sonic answered bluntly, with a bit of a smirk. "...But I will at least remember what you said."

Wolfe, who had frozen up at Sonic's first statement, relaxed somewhat. "I suppose it'll have to do." He chuckled ruefully. "Good luck."

"Bye."

* * *

After taking a few wrong turns, Tails and Amy wound up at the inn, which looked more like a normal, two story house than anything else, if a little bit bigger. The innkeeper was a brown tortoiseshell cat, short but quite plump, and quickly ushered them in, beaming.

"You must be the new guests! Mayor Wolfe told me all about you." The lady said. "I'm sure you've got to be exhausted from the trip here, so I'll just take you right on up to your rooms, is that okay?"

Tails and Amy gratefully nodded; a near five hour flight coupled with jet lag meant that they were more than happy to catch a quick nap before Sonic returned.

With two rooms between them, they decided it was best for the boys to take one room, and Amy the other. Dragging her twin pink suitcases into the room, Amy simply let them go once she could shut the door. One of them, top-heavy, fell over with a thud. Amy mimicked this action as she fell into the bed, an old-fashioned day bed with peach covers. In the end, she hardly even remembered putting her head on the pillow before Tails was there shaking her, and as she roused from her sleep she could see Sonic had returned. Clutched in his hands was a manila envelope.

Without another thought, Amy sat up properly, as Sonic sat in a nearby chair and Tails joined her on the bed. Sonic stared at the envelope reverently, as though afraid to open it, then his fingers finally moved for the tab.


	4. What's in a name?

**Note to self: make sure the next OC is not a bloody cat - there's too many cats in this story. Anyway, I apologize for taking my dear sweet time with this, as always, but look! Look how much longer this one is! Though I get the distinct impression that my attempt at a cliffhanger wasn't as good as before - let me know. Also, a big thank you to Shinyshiny9, Lordoftheghostking28, werewolf99, and Katz4 for their encouraging reviews, always helping me push myself to do better and better. That's right, you get CALLED OUT in reviews now. This will either mean lots more reviews, or lots less. I'm not sure which. And to Katz4... does this answer your question? ;) -TC  
**

* * *

Clary opened her eyes for the first time in twenty minutes, still lying spread eagle on her bed where she had woken up. Silvia had warned her to get used to sleeping in this position now, before her stomach swelled too much. While she had had to make a conscious effort to not roll on her side the first few nights, she was adjusting well enough. One thing she hadn't been able to adjust to, however, were the sudden nausea spells, which was the reason for her current predicament. Sheer strength of will had been the only thing to keep her from vomiting the second she woke up, and any movement, however slight, only provoked her traitorous stomach. To Clary's dismay, "Morning Sickness" was not, in fact, restricted to mornings, and had struck at seemingly random times throughout the past couple weeks. Luckily, this bout seemed to have ended for the time being.

Clary carefully raised her head, alert to whatever her body was telling her, only moving for real when it seemed truly safe. She scooted over to the bed, letting her legs dangle over the side as she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Ten-thirty. She must have overslept. Then again, the place she planned to visit today didn't open until noon, so perhaps it wasn't so bad. Getting up, she walked over to the closet, exchanging her nightgown for a tasteful white blouse and skirt. She had adamantly refused to buy maternity shirts before she showed signs of swelling, and Silvia, realizing a lost cause when she saw it, simply rolled her eyes and left her to her personal wardrobe, which consisted of outfits that seemed fairly classy to the residents of town, but far more promiscuous than she previously worn before striking out on her own.

For a moment, she considered whether or not to wear the pair of gloves that matched the outfit. It was certainly considered proper for Mobians wear gloves in public, though things were more lax here on Christmas Island. To be sure, there were old gossips who would tut in disapproval at the improperly dressed young people here, but they existed everywhere, and besides, Clary didn't particularly care what they thought, or what anyone did, for that matter. Deciding to forgo the gloves for today, she compromised by sliding a pair of large golden bangles over her wrists, where they were normally used to hold the gloves in place (apparently even the most prim Mobians got tired of constantly readjusting their gloves).

Having deemed herself appropriately dressed (by her standards at least), she headed into the hall, following the smell of pancakes drifting from the kitchen. "Good morning." Silvia said without looking up from the stove.

"Morning." Clary replied, grabbing a plate down and forking about half from the pile already on the plate next to her.

"How'd you sleep?" Silvia asked, putting the last pancake on the plate and turning off the stove.

"Alright." said Clary. "I woke up once or twice to go throw up, but... Sorry." She apologized, suddenly remembering this was not the place for discussing that.

"Eh." Silvia shrugged. "I've seen it all."

"That's true." Clary agreed. "Anyway, how long is this supposed to last, again?"

"Hard to say." Silvia answered. "Could be several months, could be all throughout the pregnancy."

"All throughout?" Clary said weakly.

Silvia quirked a smile. "You're very lucky, you know. There have been women who were hospitalized just because they couldn't get nutrients or water from Morning Sickness."

"That doesn't seem like much of a helpful tactic, biologically speaking." Clary noted.

Silvia shrugged. "All in the game of life, I suppose. You play the hand you're dealt."

The rest of breakfast was spent discussing various strange cases Silvia had encountered throughout her life, though a good portion of it was spent simply laughing at the odd breakfast table topic. When they were done, Clary picked up the dishes herself and went to wash them in the sink, though it was more of a gesture than anything else; she was hugely relieved when Silvia protested and took over herself. Heading into the living room, she picked up the remote lying on the coffee table and flipped the TV on. Just as her favorite show was coming on, though, Silvia strode into the room, thrusting a huge book in her direction.

"Uh... What's this?" Clary asked, flipping it over so she could read the title. "'The Greatest Baby Naming Book Ever'? Oh, come on, Silv, you can't actually think-"

"Have you already thought of a name for it, then?" Silvia interrupted.

"...No." Clary said meekly. Silvia picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

"But... I mean..." Clary thought desperately for an excuse. "Shouldn't we wait until we know what sex it is? I mean, what if we pick out a girl name for a boy, or a boy name for a girl?"

"Just make a list." Silvia said dispassionately, turning her back and leaving, to Clary's horror, with the remote. "Put all the girl names you like in one column, and all the boy names in another."

"But Silv-!" Realizing she was already gone, she slumped back on the couch, ears drooping as she reluctantly opened the book to a random page.

_Gable: God is bright._

Clary frowned, flipping to a new page.

_Licia: Happy._

_Leyna: light._

_Lilly: flower._

"I am not naming my daughter after a flower." Clary said aloud, then continued.

_Lexis: Defender of the People._

Now that wasn't too bad.

_Kizzy: Cinnamon._

She flipped to the boy's section.

_Abhay: fearless._

Nice meaning, if not too catchy.

_Absolom: Father is peace._

Clary took a minute to reflect on the baby's father. Certainly, he was peaceful - if anything, a little boring. Still, thinking of him filled Clary with anything _but _peace, and she flipped to a new page.

_Marcos: From Mars._

_Marco: Warlike._

_Matthew: Biblical apostle._

_Mikey: Who is like the Lord?_

_Milad: birth._

She did not need to be reminded at this time.

_Michael: Archangel, cast Satan and his demons from heaven._

A name like Michael seemed so... Ordinary. Clary wasn't a huge fan of overly fluffy things like angels, but still, an angel that could fight, and _actually threw Satan out of heaven? _That was kind of cool. What else was there?

_Ogilvie: From the high peak._

Clary put the book down.

* * *

By the time noon rolled around, she had successfully compiled one name into the "boy" category. Deciding that was good enough for the time being, Clary got up off the couch and went to fetch her shoes and jacket from her room, where they had mysteriously appeared. Once upon a time, Silvia tucked both shoes side by side into their corner, while her jacket was hung in the closet. Nowadays, the shoes were merely tossed into the room and scattered while the jacket was flung carelessly on the bed.

It made little difference to her, as she simply collected her things from the ground and bed and headed out without thinking twice about it.

The moment she left the door, any traces of the past insecurity she had shared with Silvia vanished, to be replaced by the calm, cold demeanor she wore when dealing with the rest of the world. She headed down the porch steps and onto the sidewalk with her usual brisk pace.

She had been meaning to do this for weeks, but as was usual for her, had continued to put off what she considered to be an unpleasant situation. Silvia had even made the sarcastic remark that if she were able to, it was highly likely she would put off the birth itself, something Clary had _not _found amusing. This task, in particular, was something she had reason to put off; giving her second - and only other - friend in the world the news. Joan was particularly less tactful than Silvia. A woman after her own heart, Joan was prone to random bursts of temper, and did _not _bother trying to sugarcoat her statements, seeing it as a form of dishonesty. While Clary considered her to be one of the most loyal (again, out of two) friends she had ever had, she still knew she was very unlikely to take news like this well.

Her steps slowed as she started to wonder how exactly she would break this to her. Eventually she stopped altogether, standing on the corner looking down the street where she was headed. She showed no signs of nervousness; her face remained completely calm, simply appearing to be calculating odds, but inside her mind was a raging turmoil. She would do this today: she promised herself that, and she intended to do so. Plus if she went home without having done it, it would mean that there was something out there too frightening for her, and of all things, Clarissa Avon Hedgehog was _not _a _coward._

This thought spurred her forward, eager to prove its truth, and she stepped down onto the street without another thought, to the severe annoyance of the car that was just about to turn in front of her.

Still, Clary argued, trying to detach herself from the situation and look at it logically, perhaps it would be best to wait. Not until tomorrow, but perhaps until later that evening. Joan was sure to be far more busy at that time, and while it did mean she would be able to show less concern for Clary, perhaps that was for the best: While she was grateful for Silvia's firm but kind treatment of her, and rationally knew that she would be hopelessly lost without her help, she couldn't completely stop the grumblings of her more prideful nature that insisted she didn't _need _anyone's help, or their pity, for that matter. It had been a struggle recently to reconcile the two, and the last thing she needed was another well-meaning but patronizing nursemaid. No, it was best that she catch her when she was busy. A minute or two would be enough to tell her what she needed to know, and then she could leave, and let her deal with work and sleep on it for the night before she had to deal with her in the morning.

With this new plan put into action, Clary turned off the street she was heading down, and onto another. While formulating a plan and putting it into motion always helped calm her down somewhat, there was only one sure-fire way Clary knew of to relieve pent up stress. She followed the road down until it dissolved into a dirt path leading out of the city, and picked up speed until she was at a full run.

* * *

Finally, her thirst for adrenaline quenched, Clary called it a day and arrived at her destination: The Sleeping Bear. One of the few bars to be considered _not _completely shady in the area, The Sleeping Bear was owned and operated by Joan, and in Clary's opinion, there was no one out there more suited to the job. While she was by no means a pushover, and took great measures to ensure there was order in her bar, she still treated her employees like family, often referring to them as "her girls" (Joan rarely hired men, aside from bouncers and a few young boys she deemed worthy of work there). In return, the girls had learned to put up with her shouting and general temper, and focus on the generous wages and maternal protection she offered them. There was even a back room in the bar that had been known to double as a guest room for the ones who either couldn't go home that night, or had no home to return to.

She headed through the front door, not even stopping as she nodded to the security - they knew her well enough already - and stepped into the bar. The bar consisted of three separate areas which offered a different sort of service for whoever wanted it. The bar itself was on the right of the entrance, and was made of a sturdy but not necessarily fancy wood. Though scuffed and pockmarked in a lot of places, it was kept very clean, and shone well enough for customers to be able to see their reflections in. On the left were the other two areas, a somewhat crowded dining area with several waitresses flitting about serving drinks, and a quieter spot in the corner, where the dining chairs were replaced with several couches of varying size and color. She was headed over to the bar to ask one of the girls where Joan was, but stopped abruptly at the sight of a _very _familiar figure. Luckily his back was turned to her, and she still had time to make a getaway, but her heart still leaped irrationally, as though he could sense her very presence. _Of all the places for him to be here, _she fumed silently. Things would be much more difficult with him in the way. Now she headed towards the couches, as she knew she could watch from afar without Joan or _him_ knowing she was here, though she hadn't bet on there being this many customers. She'd find a way to catch her alone for just a minute or two, though, that was all she really needed. Work was the perfect excuse for her to be too busy to talk this out fully with her, and perhaps once-

She was so caught up in her plans she accidentally ran straight into what felt like a large, squishy wall, and it took her a moment to realize she had bumped into someone. It took her another moment to realize that someone was at the very least twice her size, and still another to realize that both she and the stranger were now both sopping wet on their front shirts. "Uh." The stranger said intelligently. Apparently the stranger was even slower processing what happened. The glass Clary had just spilled was clearly not his first.

Clary opened her mouth, an apology coming, but the words died on her lips as she caught wind of the panda's stench and her nose immediately wrinkled. "Ugh, you _stink!_" She said instead. Naturally, this comment did not improve the panda's impression of her, and after he had had a moment to make sense of it, his face twisted in anger.

"Hey!" He managed.

Clary snorted. "I think I just did you a favor." She wasn't even attempting to insult him, just stating a fact - not that the panda knew that.

"You tryenta start somefin'?" he slurred.

"No." Clary replied truthfully, and moved to brush past him into the relaxation area, but the panda had other ideas.

"Yeh don't just start somethin and walk away from it." He insisted, thrusting out a meaty arm to block her path and half-grabbing her arm.

"Leave it, Noah." A voice called from the bar.

"You better listen to your friend." Clary warned, yanking her arm out of his grip, her tail swishing the floor in irritation hard enough to kick up a small amount of dust. What had originally been a minor annoyance was beginning to piss her off, and her patience for drunkards was short enough as is.

"No." he said, leaning forward. "You got somefin te say, say it."

Clary quirked an eyebrow, her temper officially lost. "Fine: You're stupid, you're drunk as hell, you smell like something took a piss on you and then died, and for the love of God, it's pronounced _something._"

_That_ did it. With a howl of rage, the panda moved to shove her back, but with half his weight to move and about three pints less alcohol in her system, Clary had all the advantage she needed to move out of the way, barely jumping so much as just sidestepping his reach. The drunk stumbled slightly, looking confused as he tried to figure out where exactly she had gone, and Clary couldn't resist whistling to catch his attention. Even more infuriated now, he lunged for her again, and this time rather than dodge Clary ducked under his reach to jab at his stomach. The martial arts lessons she had demanded in her youth had paid off many times before, and even without her advantage she felt more than confident. At least, she had been, before his arms seized her around the waist and hoisted her up, holding her upside down as he made to throw her. Clary yowled like a feral cat and dragged her claws as far down his back as she could reach up to his neck, blessing her women's intuition that she had chosen not to wear gloves that day.

The panda yelled and dropped her behind him, Clary landing on her feet as always, and she took advantage of her position, striking out with a side sweeping kick that would have sent any other opponent crashing to the ground. As it was, though, the panda's enormous weight meant kicking him was about as effective as kicking a telephone pole. That didn't mean she didn't get his attention, though. With his face twisted in an ugly snarl, he whirled around, fist cocked down low for a deep punch in the gut, and everything around Clary suddenly seemed to freeze and go faster all at once.

She could take in everything - the exact size of the fist, the muscles bulging beneath the skin, the stench of alcohol on his breath, and suddenly her mind went blank except for one thought: _Protect the baby._

She threw herself over her midsection, arms wrapped around herself and her head tucked in tight. Of course, moving her head in its path only made the impact worse, and she was thrown back against one of the couches. Almost before she even hit the couch her hands felt along her belly, as if she could feel through her fingers what condition the child was in. Her stomach hadn't taken much of a hit, thankfully. What was she thinking? The baby could have been _killed_!

Feeling victorious, the panda moved to strike again, but before he could take more than a single step towards Clary, a huge paw swept down and cuffed him on the side of the ear. "That's _enough_!" Came a rough shout, and what few patrons in the bar that _hadn't_ been watching the fight quickly turned around.

Still half distracted with examining her stomach and cursing her stupidity, Clary looked up with relief at the friendly (sort of) voice of Joan, who now had the panda by the ear as if disciplining a child (Clary's hands moved across her belly again). With her height fully drawn up the way it was now, she even had a few inches on the panda himself, and as a bear her distinct lack of clothing, wearing only the serving vest of the bar, showed almost no curves, only muscle. "The _hell _do you think you're doing? Huh? You come into _my _bar, drink _my _drinks, and go picking fights with _my _paying customers-"

"She strted eht." The panda mumbled, even worse off than before. Clary half wondered if he should be worried about alcohol poisoning. Joan apparently agreed.

"You're drunk as _hell_." She said, disgusted, and half threw him towards the door. The security people didn't even bother attempting to grab him - Joan liked to remain uninterrupted when making an example. With near-Herculean strength, she grabbed him by the waist of his pants and the back of his shirt collar, and hurled him the rest of the way out of the bar. The panda struggled to keep his footing with the momentum of the throw, but ended up tripping over his own feet and landed face-first in the street. "You're done for the night." She said, a tad unnecessarily.

On the way back in, she glanced at one of the Mobians who had previously tried to talk "Noah" out of it. "You with him?" She grunted, jerking a thumb in the direction of the panda still trying to figure out how to stand up. The gorilla shook his head quickly. She grunted again, and headed in the direction of Clary.

Clary's relief at seeing her old friend was short-lived; the only way Joan even acknowledged that they knew each other was in the way she yanked her to her feet only slightly less roughly than she had handled the panda. "And _you,_"she said sternly. "You are _not _bleeding all over my carpets that I _just _had shampooed. In the kitchen. Now."

Clary swallowed, feeling a pang of guilt in her stomach for having made such a mess in Joan's place, but yanked her hand out of Joan's grasp, insisting on keeping the little pride she could retain with blood dripping down her muzzle. She may have had the foresight to not wear gloves, but she certainly had make a mistake in wearing white. Not that it was her fault - it wasn't like she woke up this morning _planning _to get in a fight.

Joan played the uncaring owner facade until the minute they were both through the service door that led to the kitchen. "What the _hell _was that?" She demanded the second the door closed behind her.

"I'm sorry, Joan, I'll pay for the carpet-" she began, though she knew that wasn't what she had meant.

"No! A. you don't start a fight in my bar, and b. if you do, you damn well better _win!" _Joan took a deep, steadying breath. "You had every advantage against that guy. How the hell did he get the drop on you?"

"I just- I sort of-" Clary had to force the word out of her mouth. "Panicked." She hated that word - sounded so helpless. Panicking was for the weak, the stupid, the _useless_. She hadn't lost it completely since she was sixteen years old.

Joan quirked an eyebrow. "I've seen you take punches like that before." Her hand reached for her empty front pocket, an old habit from her smoking days. Some people thought that was the cause of her rough voice, hoarse with near constant shouting, but sometimes Clary found it hard to believe that she hadn't simply come straight out of the womb that way.

"Well... It was kind of a... a bigger deal than usual." Joan frowned. "Joan, I'm... I mean I'm having a... there's a... a baby. In me, I mean. I mean it's preg - _I'm _pregnant." She stammered out, all confidence she had spent the day gaining lost.

Joan, who had been scratching her ear, a nervous tic of hers, froze for a moment, then turned and jerked her head to the girl currently washing dishes, who put down the plate she was washing and went outside to wait the customers. Joan grabbed two metal folding chairs from a nearby wall and set them by a rarely used sink. And for the second time that night Clary felt like a complete idiot. Of _course _Joan wouldn't just let things stop there. She was her friend and as such planned to spend as much time by her side as she felt she needed to.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" She said quietly.

Clary took a breath, trying to sit up as straight as she could in her chair, but with a nose she was beginning to suspect had been broken, deep breathing was difficult. Joan wordlessly passed her a paper towel, then settled into her own chair and made no move.

Clary blew her nose out first, the feeling of the blood trickling down the inside of her throat threatening to stimulate nausea again, then tossed it into a nearby wastepaper basket, accepting another one from Joan and simply holding that one to her nose. "Do you" she began, "do you remember that night when I got in a fight with you-know-who, and I went out on a date with-"

At that moment the door to the kitchen opened, and the sounds of the bar wafted in, joined by the service girl's "Sir, you can't go in there!" and silhouetted by a lone hedgehog. "I saw what happened." he said. "The fight-"

Joan made to shoo him out, but Clary signaled not to. For some strange reason, all the tension she had felt before drained away looking at him, and for the first time in a long while she felt cool, calm, and in control - just the way she wanted to be. There wasn't a single shiver in her voice as she spoke in a way she only wished she could with the girls. "Jonathan, I'm pregnant. You're the father."


	5. Chasing the Sound of the Wind

**I want everybody to realize just how proud of myself I am for getting this up so quickly. For some reason 'Clary' chapters always seem to go by faster for me. I guess the best explanation is with Sonic and the others I have to stop to ask myself "Is this in character? Is this something they would say?". With Clary and the other OCs, though, I can just say "Bitch, this IS your character!". Though that leads to a whole host of problems on its own, namely, the avoiding of cliches.**

**Anyway, it's almost one where I am, and I've got a job interview in the morning, so I'm signing off! Remember to tell me what to think, comments, complements, suggestions for improvement, I'd love to hear it! - TC**

* * *

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Clary said, seated at the table where they had relocated to.

Jonathan frowned - it was hard to judge the sincerity of many of Clary's statements, given how calmly she always said everything. Still - she _had _said she was sorry. "I didn't think it was too important that you knew - and besides, I only found out a few weeks ago anyway."

"You didn't think it was _important?_" Jonathan asked, not quite able to let that one go.

"No." she replied simply.

"You didn't find it important that I'm going to be a father? That we're about to be parents?"

Now Clary frowned, though it barely showed. Her brows came together only slightly, and her lips pursed together. "You may be a biological father, yes. But you don't need to worry. I plan to raise it on my own."

"It?" He said, confused.

Clary shrugged. "Don't know what gender. I hope it's a girl though."

"A girl." Jonathan said to himself. "A baby girl."

"Though I wouldn't mind if it was a boy." Clary said quickly.

"Have you thought of any names?" he asked.

Clary frowned again. What _was _it with people wanting to know about names today? "I was actually thinking it would be something inspired, rather than just picked out of a book." Though she more said it to contradict Silvia and Jonathan, she was actually surprised at how true those words rang to her.

"You could be inspired by something you read from a book."

"Maybe." Clary said neutrally, a sure sign she was losing interest. She gestured to a waitress to bring her something, and sat in contemplative silence.

Jonathan took this chance to study her. It had been over a month since he had last seen her, and absence had only made his heart grow fonder. She certainly _was _beautiful. He hoped the girl would look like her. The way the flecks of white shone here and there like snowflakes on a winter sky, every twist and turn of her fur, her whole _body, _the way the powdery blue contrasted with her violet hair, always messy from the wild speeds she loved to run at. Something struck him suddenly and he sat up straighter. Clary noticed the action with a detached curiosity. "What?" She asked.

"Your hair." he said. "It's... messy."

"I didn't get dressed up for a date, I came here to talk to Joan." Clary replied, peeved. "So excuse me if I'm not quite up to your standards-"

"Have you been _running_?" He asked.

"Yeah." She answered, as if to say, _what of it?_

"Fast?"

"That would be the definition of running versus walking." She replied, as if talking to a very slow child.

"No, but..." he quickly tried to think up a definition that would get his meaning across to her. "_Fast, _fast?"

"What about it?" Clary replied defensively.

"What... Clary, you _can't._" Jonathan said, alarmed. "The _baby-_"

"The baby is fine." Clary snapped. "And don't _even _begin to tell me what I can and can't do!"

"Clary, the child-!"

"I said _DON'T!_" Clary yelled, unconsciously leaping to her feet, the chair falling over with a loud clatter, before seemingly realizing what she had done. Trying to calm down, she drew a deep breath, flipping her chair back up and sitting down, ignoring the looks from the patrons who by now seemed clearly convinced she was going to start _another_ fight. Another deep breath, and Clary spoke again, trying to keep her voice even. "I am the one carrying this baby. I am the one who will be raising this baby. I will decide how to care for it, and what I can and can't do while pregnant."

"Clary." He, too, was choosing his words carefully, and speaking them with a forced calm, though he was more likely trying not to upset her than keep from getting upset himself. "I know that you- that you like to do things on your own. And I know you are independent enough to make your own decisions. But Clary - no, listen to me! - Clary, this isn't just about you! You keep talking about her -or him- like 'it' this and 'it' that, and you let your own desires take precedent over what your baby needs-"

"It's not just about what I _desire_!" Clary broke in. "And I am fully aware of what my baby needs, but that doesn't take away from what _I _need!" Though her voice wasn't loud enough to draw attention again, it threatened to, and Jonathan quickly looked around, gesturing with his hands to lower the volume.

Clary dropped her voice lower, but not any calmer. "You are not a father yet, Jonathan Hedgehog, and you are most certainly not _mine._ You don't even _begin _to understand anyth-"

"So explain it!" Jonathan argued back, the first time he had actually snapped at her. "You're saying I don't understand, well you're right, I don't, because you don't tell me anything! If I really don't understand then _make me understand!"_

For a moment Clary was genuinely taken aback. Though she never outright thought of him as a pushover, she had honestly never thought he would actually stand up to her like this. Up until then, he had simply been content to be jerked around aimlessly, the victim of Clary's ever-changing moods. She swallowed. She had felt little pangs of guilt here and there for what she had done, but she herself was so used to simply shrugging off harsh words and cruel blows it was rare that she stopped to truly think about what other people were going through. People suffered every day, and in her mind, it was simply the way of the world.

Still, that didn't mean she had to contribute to that suffering.

Clary's breath was released, slowly, as the tension in her back and shoulders relaxed. Her rigid stance was replaced with something more natural, more _human, _and her tail, which had been flicking back and forth restlessly since they had sat down, finally stilled. "Alright, listen." Clary sighed, the fight she had started suddenly gone. "No," she said, forestalling whatever Jonathan was about to say. "Just listen. If I stop talking for even a second, I'm going to think about what I'm telling you, and then I'm never going to get the words out."

Somewhat confused, Jonathan nevertheless rested back in his chair, listening as Clary continued. "I was born to a very rich, very noble family. Like, every little girl's fantasy, noble. My father's a duke, which means on the old hierarchy, we're one step down from royalty. Everyone on my father's side of the family inherited not only the title, but also the gift of speed."

"No one is one hundred percent sure where we got our gift, but it's pretty clear we've had it a very long time - there are old legends that speak of 'Windchasers', who supposedly could run as fast as the wind. It was my uncle who found out about The Windchasers, and suggested to my father in their youth that they hone their talents. When I was born with the gift, they set about teaching me to do the same."

Clary trailed off, and for a moment, Jonathan was tempted to stop her, tell her that she needn't continue, but just as he opened his mouth she spoke again.

"It was a good time for us. All of us. They thought they'd have to slow up for me for a long time, but I caught up to them quickly. By eleven, they didn't need to give me any handicap at all. By twelve, I beat them for the first time. We worked together - each of us pushed each other, encouraged each other, motivated each other to try harder. We weren't always just playing around, though. My uncle had an idea - a theory - that he came up with when he was studying The Windchasers. He suggested, after months of research, that there was a way to outrun sound itself. Scientists today say the same thing. Sonic speed, they call it: the speed of sound. He suggested there could be a way for us - for me, if trained properly, to move to you faster than the words I am saying right now."

Jonathan tried to picture it - he really did. But with Clary sitting a mere three feet away, it was impossible - her lips matched up perfectly with what she was saying, there wasn't even the slightest delay. How could there even be such a thing, when sound seemed clearly instantaneous?

"My uncle became obsessed with it, and my father caught onto his fervor. When I was old enough, the bug bit me too." She smiled sadly, almost bitterly. "I grew up with the feel of the wind in my face and my feet pounding on the ground. I learned to adore sore muscles and lost breath, because it meant I had given my all. And then it was taken from me."

Her eyes, which had locked unwaveringly onto his own, dropped their gaze for the first time since beginning the story.

"My father was tied up in a meeting, and I was stuck with my mother and sister for the day, and so Uncle went out to train alone. We were never sure what happened, but they found his body at the foot of the mountain he was practicing on, with a twisted ankle. I'm sure you can piece together your own theory. We did."

"After that, my father made a household rule: no one in our family would run again. My father had loved my uncle as deeply as any man could love his brother, and the loss hit him hard. But he was wrong," Clary said, her eyes igniting with fire once more. "He was so caught up in his own mourning that he never thought to wonder what _Uncle _would say if he found out that father gave up his dream. Uncle _sacrificed _himself for the sake of that dream, and giving it up is spitting on his grave, and the grave of every Duke Windchaser who ever lived, declaring the gift that they had passed down to be unworthy! Uncle _died_ for his dream! He died," Clary said wistfully, almost poetically, "chasing the sound of the wind."

There was a few seconds of silence, as Clary stared off into her memories, and the hustle of the bar seemed strangely muted. Then Jonathan cleared his throat, bringing her out of it. "What happened then?"

"Then?" Clary asked, as if that was the very end of the story.

"What did you do after your father banned ru- using your gift?"

"I did the only thing I could." Clary said wryly. "I rebelled in every single way I could, whether it was bringing home a host of undesirable suitors, only some of them male, or 'accidentally' ruining whatever project my mother or sister happened to be working on." Clary snorted, speaking the next part more to herself than him. "We were loaded anyway, why did we need to learn sewing, or arts? Just a waste of time. Of course, given how dull things were around there..." She seemed to remember what she was talking about. "I rebelled as much as I could, and then, when my parents would do _anything _to shut me up and stop me from embarrassing them even more, I demanded my inheritance, and permission to leave. They complied, and I was on a boat headed to Christmas Island in less than 48 hours." She shrugged, grinning mischievously. "Nowadays they more or less pay me to keep quiet about my background, because they don't want people to know whatever happened to me. They made up some story, I don't care. As long as I never have to be locked up in that horrible place again," she shuddered. "I don't care at all."

"Don't you ever miss them?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?" Jonathan said disbelievingly. His own mother had passed away when he was young, and the thought of a child who _wouldn't _want to be united with her family was unfathomable to him.

"No." Clary repeated. "I was never all that close to my mother, and although once upon a time my sister and I were really close... Once the incident happened, she and I just... drifted apart. She wasn't born with the gift, so she didn't understand what I was going through. She would get mad at _me _whenever I acted out, as though everything was my fault and how _dare _I speak up for my own independence. She always was a goody-two-shoes." Clary said waspishly to herself. " She's the only member of my family who still tries to stay in contact with me. But not because she's worried about me, oh no. She just wants me to come back and stay in my cage like a good little girl! Every time she calls, it's the same bullshit! I keep telling her to leave me alone, but she never does! It's all 'you're embarrassing us' this and 'stop acting out' that! As if being myself is acting out!"

Although he was clearly no longer the target of her fury, Jonathan was still making lowering gestures with his hands, reminding Clary where she was - and what she had to say. "I'm sorry, Jonathan." she began. "Looking back, I feel bad, I really do. But the truth is... I got into I fight with Francisca the day you asked me out. I was mad, and feeling rebellious, and that's why I said yes. To get back at her - at _them _\- any way I could. I slept with you because..." Clary sighed, looking truly ashamed. "Because I wanted to picture the look on Franny's face if she ever found out I was sleeping out of wedlock. If she ever found out I defiled my purity ring." She said, putting her hand flat on the table so Jonathan could see the empty finger. "I just wanted to get back at her for what she said over the phone, and you were there, and you were _convenient, _so I did what I did. I won't say I'm proud of it, but in a weird sort of way I won't say I regret it either." She looked down, at her yet-to-be-swelling belly. "At first I thought this was going to be horrible; the end of my life." Her lips quirked up. "And you know what? It probably will be. But I'm still almost... _happy _to have a baby anyway." Her eyes cast a wistful glance, not quite at but rather through Jonathan. "Maybe this child will have what it takes. Maybe my baby will become the fastest thing ever to set foot on a racetrack. Maybe my baby will be the one to carry on the family legacy, and realize my uncle's dream."

"Why not name it after him?"

Clary looked up, apparently having forgotten who she was talking to. "Huh?"

"The baby. If it's a boy, why not name it after your uncle?"

Clary shook her head. "Nah. I never really liked 'Charles'. Although..." Her face turned thoughtful for a moment. "What if I still named the child in his memory? After the goal it's their destiny to realize? Tell me how this sounds: " Clary said thoughtfully. "Sonic. Sonic... the Hedgehog."


	6. In the State of Denmark

**Hey, everybody! Guess who took forever to upload absolutely nothing! (Here's a hint: you're talking to her.) Anyway, I haven't forgot about you, I've just been swamped between school and work, so for those of you wishing me luck, thanks a bunch! I got the job! Also, huge thanks to Katz4 and Anon for so graciously reminding me that I have people waiting for me to update. You even if you're nagging, it's the kind of nagging I need, so much obliged. This chapter's on you.**

* * *

"What's he doing now?" The voice crackled through the radio.

"Not much." The stranger replied, balanced perfectly on a branch on the tree outside the inn's window. "He has his birth certificate. Looks like he's opening it in front of his friends."

"Does he have anything else with him?"

The spy peered in, using a pair of military-grade binoculars. "Doesn't look like it. Just the one."

"Alright. Once you're done there, I want you to go to city hall, and the hospital. Get in somehow, and make sure any more files on Sonic the Hedgehog 'go missing'. After a few days, he ought to give up."

"Are you sure," The spy asked, "that's going to deter him?"

"Why would he keep looking when it's obvious there's nothing else here for him?"

"Believe me, sir," The spy answered solemnly, "Just because something seems lost, won't stop someone who truly wants to find it."

The voice snorted, a very irritating sound over the radio. "Spare me your philosophizing, and just get the job done."

"Yes, sir." The spy replied. "Over and out."

There was a click as the radio went dead, and the spy stowed it on his belt, along with his binoculars. He cast one last glance at his target, who was slowly drawing the paper out of the manila envelope, acting as though it might crumble to dust beneath his fingertips. Here was a boy who was just on the cusp of grasping who he was, where he came from. It was a shame to shatter that dream. Of course the spy knew about the hero's exploits, everyone did, but that wouldn't stop him from doing his job. Still, it was a little strange seeing the boy talked about so excitedly in person. He seemed much more... human, in person, especially as he was there.

But he wasn't there to gawk. Shaking himself out of it, he leapt down onto the grass just outside the inn's property, barely making a sound as he did. Once he hit the ground he didn't spare a glance back, simply kept running. It was time to erase Sonic the Hedgehog for good.

* * *

"Sonic." Tails read over his adoptive brother's shoulder. "Sonic the Hedgehog."

"I guess you remembered it right." Amy said, offering a hesitant smile.

"Yeah." Sonic said slowly. "I guess I did."

What followed was a brief silence as they all read over the birth certificate. Tails finally broke it. "Did they give you anything else?"

"Nah." Sonic shook his head. "The lady at the counter said they needed to find and pull out the other files. She said it'd be ready by tomorrow."

"Ah." He answered. "What do you want to do until then?"

Sonic's brow furrowed as he thought. "It's almost six." he noted. "Why don't we find a place to eat?"

Amy glanced at the clock beside her bed -had she really slept that long? - and then nodded. "I'm with Sonic. Those sandwiches felt like a long time ago."

"I agree." Tails added. "Let's see if we can find a good place to eat." With that, he got up and headed downstairs, intending to ask the landlady for directions.

"Then I'm going to change into something better." Amy said. "Get out," She added, making a shooing motion at Sonic.

"Okay, okay." he said, laughing, the strange tension in the room starting to dissolve. "I'll go unpack our things. Shouldn't be too much. Unlike a certain someone." He teased, and Amy snatched up a decorative pillow from the bed to chuck it at him.

"Get out!" She said, laughing, as Sonic caught it and tossed it back at her, then ducked out the door before she could return fire.

Shaking his head, Sonic headed across the hall to the boys' room, intending to make good on his promise to unpack. Unzipping the suitcase, he put his spare pair of shoes next to the left bed, and Tails' next to the right, then took out the fox's laptop and plugged it in to charge on the bedside table. His chores now done, he left the room and glanced downstairs, where Tails was getting directions from the landlady (what was her name again? Sonic couldn't remember). "I think I got it." he heard him say, then there was the sound of footsteps as he ascended. "Alright, we've got a good place to go." He said.

"Great." Sonic replied. "Let's get going."

* * *

Some twenty minutes later, he knocked on Amy's door for the fourth time. "Are you almost ready yet?" he demanded.

"Almost!" came the shout from inside.

"You said that ten minutes ago!"

"Well, _now_ I'm almost ready."

Sonic groaned melodramatically, allowing his weight to slump against the door. From inside, Amy rolled her eyes. "Just because you _boys_ can have your fur combed and be ready in five minutes doesn't mean we all can! If we're going out to eat, I want to look nice!"

"You already look nice, and I'm _hungry!_"

Tails smiled and shook his head, lying on his stomach on his bed with his laptop out in front of him.

**I swear to God, they're like a married couple. **He typed to Knuckles, who, somewhat reluctantly, had agreed to look after Tails' shop in their absence. Really, if Tails hadn't had that chaos emerald in his vault, it was highly unlikely he'd have agreed to it in the first place.

**Don't tell Amy that. **The reply came. **She only just stopped trying to marry him.**

**That's true. But oddly enough, the more she backs off, the more he starts flirting with her.**

**Go figure.**

**Hang on. I think we might actually be GOING somewhere.**

Sure enough, Tails could hear the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing, and Amy talking.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Good." Sonic said without hesitating.

"Sonic!" Amy snapped angrily.

"Great?" He offered, confused.

"You can't just _say _it! You have to be honest! How will I know how I really look if you just say, 'Good' and 'Great' every time I ask for an opinion!"

"Well how am _I _supposed to kno-"

"Hey, are we ready?" Tails asked as he stepped out into the hall, pretending he hadn't heard the previous exchange.

"Here, Tails!" Amy said, stepping off to the side so that Sonic was no longer in her way. "How do I look?"

Tails put his hand to his chin, pretending to consider. She had stuck with her usual red, but this dress was slightly darker, and reached down past her thighs. A pair of white knee-high boots came up to meet it, matched with identical elbow length gloves. Her normal hairband was still in place, and she had tied a red scarf loosely around her neck. Tails hesitated just long enough to convince her, then nodded. "You look great." He said.

"Thank you, Tails." She replied sweetly, to Sonic's noise of disgust. "_He _knows how to talk to a lady." She said mockingly over her shoulder, following Tails down the stairs.

"Whatever." Sonic grumbled.

The restaurant wasn't far, so the others decided it was best to walk, gazing around at the town as they did so. "So, Sonic," Amy asked, "Does the village seem like home to you?"

Sonic glanced around - part of him wanted to say yes, this place felt warm and friendly to him - the way he always imagined home would be like. It wasn't untrue... but it wasn't fully true either. Christmas Village felt nice, but in the way some of the other villages he had visited on his travels felt nice. There was nothing particularly world shattering about coming to this island, no sudden flashes of memory and nostalgia, the way he'd thought it would be. If he concentrated, he could call up a feeling of recognition, but he couldn't tell if that feeling was genuine, or something he was forcing on the place to match his own expectations.

"Hard to say." He answered back. "I guess it might take a while for my memory to come back - or maybe it's just not going to come back. Christmas Village is nice, though." he added quickly. "I like it."

"Yeah, me too." Amy agreed.

"I think this is the place." Tails said a few minutes later, stopping in front of a light brown building. A sign above the door read in faded paint that had clearly been redone multiple times, The Sleeping Bear. Next to it was a painting of a feral brown bear curled up, its back to the picture.

"Looks homey." Amy commented.

Heading inside, they were immediately greeted by a young woman in a uniform. "Good evening. Bar or restaurant?"

"Restaurant." Sonic answered, and were led to a section on the other half of the room, where there were several available tables. For being a weekend night, it was surprisingly uncrowded.

"Good job, Sonic." Tails congratulated as they sat down. "You managed to resist temptation."

"Temptation?"

"Yeah." Tails said. "You're officially of age here, remember?"

Sonic's eyes lit up as he jumped to his feet, grinning mischievously, but he had hardly done so before Tails and Amy shut him down. "No!" Tails said, laughing.

"Sit." Amy ordered, gesturing to a seat as she would a dog, then laughed when he sat down and held his hands up like paws.

"You guys are no fun." He said, pretending to pout, then dropped the act. "Nah, just kidding. What's the fun in getting drunk when there's so much fun to be had elsewhere? Besides," he joked, "I might be going for a jog later tonight, and you _know_ you're not supposed to drink and run!"

The others laughed, then thanked the waitress as she came by with menus. After they ordered their food, they sat around chatting about this and that, Sonic telling wild stories about his exploits, offset by Tails' rationalization of the events. While never an outright liar, Sonic _did _have a habit of exaggerating the truth, and after the third or so major detail was smudged, Tails had to step in. "The robot was _not_ twenty feet tall, Sonic." he said, shaking his head.

"It was so!" The hedgehog insisted, pointing a fry in his direction to make his point.

"It was like ten feet."

"There is _no way _that thing was ten feet!"

"It was about ten, for sure."

"Maybe it wasn't twenty feet, but it had to be close!" Sonic maintained, eating the fry.

"Sonic, twenty feet is like two stories tall."

Sonic frowned, trying to reconcile this new information with his memories. "Okay, maybe it was a little smaller than that, but not by much."

"How about a compromise?" Amy suggested, eager to hear the rest of the story before Sonic lost his place altogether. "Maybe it was fifteen feet."

Sonic hesitated, munching on a fry as he thought. "Maybe that was it. That sounds about right."

Tails nodded, but didn't say anything, just smiling softly to himself and letting his adoptive brother get on with the story.

"Wow." Amy finished, a tiny bit of the hero worship she had for Sonic as a girl showing through. "I wish I had something as crazy as that happen to me. I mean, sure I've fought Eggman a bunch, but you were all with me then, so..." She paused to take a bite of her sandwich, then swallowed. "There's not really much for me to tell you that you haven't heard already."

The others shook their heads, insistent. "Are you kidding?" Tails asked. "We heard from Vanilla you're our resident babysitter. How's looking after Charmy?"

At that, Amy groaned and sank her head into her arms. "I have no idea what they're feeding that child, but they need to stop."

The others laughed sympathetically at her, and Sonic even went as far as to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Amy." He said with mock seriousness. "We're going to get through this."

The joke had its intended effect, as Amy laughed and resumed eating. "Actually, though, even Cream can be quite a handful."

"What, Cream?" Sonic asked. "She's so..."

"Cute and innocent and not at all like Charmy." Tails finished.

"Oh man..." Amy shook her head, and Sonic and Tails leaned forward. This was shaping up to be a fun night.

* * *

**("This was a sucky chapter, Tia, nothing happened and the title doesn't make any sense!") **

**SHUT UP! I spend a good 2 hours doing nothing but brainstorm for a title. Let's see you do any better.**


	7. Lost and Found

**Quick mention for those of you who didn't get the title of the last chapter: it's a reference to Hamlet, the full quote being "There's something rotten in the state of Denmark." Just thought I'd help you out.**

**I apologize for taking so long, but... ugh... school... and writer's block... Just ugh. The next chapter should be up faster though. Really, you guys should almost be used to it by now.**

* * *

"Ugh, why hasn't the food gotten here yet?" Sonic complained.

Tails rolled his eyes. "It's been fifteen minutes. Just be patient."

"What? Me? Patient?" He slapped his hand down on the table playfully. "Sonic the Hedgehog is not _patient_!"

The two laughed, but as Amy covered her mouth to giggle, she saw a woman across the room suddenly snap her head around so fast Amy swore she must have cricked her neck. For a split second, she looked straight at Sonic and narrowed her eyes, as if sizing him up, then turned back to her table. Amy frowned.

Sure, Sonic tended to get attention wherever he went, but there was something... off, about the way she had looked at him, and Amy wasn't sure she liked it.

"What's wrong, Amy?" Sonic asked, noticing the look on her face.

"Oh, nothing really." Amy said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "I think you have a fan over there, though." _Hopefully._

It wasn't often Amy wanted Sonic to get attention from other girls, but in this case, she hoped her instincts were off about that woman. It would be far better for her to turn out to be just another admirer. _Besides, _Amy reminded herself, _It's not like Sonic isn't within his rights to see someone if he wants to._

_She still looks old for him, though. _A voice in her head whispered back, almost defensively.

She snapped out of her thoughts as the waitress arrived with her food, and gratefully accepted it with a smile and a nod. She had decided to splurge tonight, and a hamburger with a basket of fries sat in front of her. Tails had a basket of chicken tenders with fries, and Sonic (predictably) had ordered chili dogs. When he went to take the first bite, he froze suddenly, and Tails looked at him concerned. "You okay?" He asked.

"Oh my God." Sonic said slowly, almost reverently, after swallowing. He looked down at the chili dog still in his hands. "This is by far the most amazing chili dog I've ever had. I'm not even being dramatic." he added, as the others were starting to smile. "I mean it, this is _amazing._" He shook his head slowly. "I've got to track this recipe down."

Tails raised an eyebrow. "That good, huh?"

Sonic, who had just taken another bite, nodded. "Yeah." He said through a mouthful of food. "That good."

So good, in fact, that he wound up flagging the waitress down and asking for another order of the stuff. Apparently the waitress was either used to this request, or just very professional, as she didn't even bat an eyelid at the second or even third order. Tails, who was used to his friends eating habits and occasional binges, didn't seem too concerned, but Amy looked worried. "He'll work it off." He reassured her. "His metabolism is so crazy, sometimes he _needs _this kinda binge. One time, he ate a whole cake by himself. One of the big ones they sell at the grocery outlets."

"Oh, wow." Amy said.

"Hey, come on now, you're making me sound like a pig!" Sonic protested, yet another chili dog on its way to his mouth.

"Nope, just a 'hog." Tails smiled, and Sonic groaned at the pun.

As the two were distracted, Amy glanced over to where the other woman was sitting, but was surprised to see she was gone. Her plate seemed almost untouched, but a small stack of bills on the table confirmed that yes, she had left for good. _Huh._

The rest of the dinner passed peacefully, with the others waiting around, ordering refills on their sodas as their friend tried his very best to eat in a civilized manner while scarfing down the rest of his meal. Luckily, the food in the small town was pretty cheap, so it wasn't really a problem for him to order more. When the waitress came by and set the check down in the middle of the table, though, both Tails and Sonic grew quiet, and there was a tense moment as they locked eyes. At nearly the same time they sprang up from their chairs to grab it, but Sonic was just a little too fast for the fox. "Sorry, bud, better luck next time." Sonic said, pulling out a few bills and offering them to the waitress.

Tails sat back in his seat, grumbling. "You say that. Just watch, one of these days I _will _treat you."

Amy shook her head and smiled. It was just like those boys, always wanting to look out for the other. It was... pretty cute, actually.

With their stomachs as full as they were, the walk home seemed a little longer than it had going back, though the night air felt good on their faces and it was nice to stretch their legs. A slight breeze stirred, sending leaves skittering down the street and tossing Amy's quills out of place, though it was late enough into the evening that she decided it didn't really matter. All she could think about now was how she was going to flop into her bed and fall sound asleep - it didn't seem the nap had had much of an effect on her sleep schedule, though she supposed it could be jet lag.

Luckily, the landlady had left the door open for them, so they could head straight up to their rooms. Sonic heaved a sigh as he flopped onto the nearest bed.

"And thank you, for stealing my bed." Tails said, nudging his feet, which were dangling off the edge of the bed, until he moved enough that Tails could sit down and take off his shoes.

"'m tired." Came the reply, half muffled through the pillow.

"It's less than five feet Sonic, I'm sure you'll make it." Tails said dismissively.

"Carry me."

"Nope."

"Ugghh." Sonic complained, but did finally sit up and go over to his side of the room - where he promptly proceeded to flop over in the exact same manner. Tails just rolled his eyes.

"Good night." He said, pulling a rolled up bag out of their suitcase and tossing his dirty socks into it. "Try to remember to keep this room neat, okay?"

The only reply was Sonic attempting to throw his own socks into the bag from his bed; they both missed. Sighing, Tails snuggled under the blankets. "Close enough."

Sonic reached across to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. "Night, Tails."

"Goodnight, Sonic."

* * *

"What do you mean, 'There's no one there'?" Sonic asked, upset, while Tails and Amy stood behind him.

"I-I'm sorry." The receptionist stammered. "We don't have anyone filed here by that name."

Seeing the look on her face, he forced himself to calm down. Really, she seemed less like a receptionist and more like an intern, if looks were anything to go by. Sonic would have pegged her as late high school, _maybe _early college. And she seemed genuinely confused by the mistake. "I-I could check again, if you'd like?" She offered weakly.

"Yeah, if you could, that'd be great." Sonic answered. "I have a birth certificate here, see?" He pulled it out and offered it to her, like it would help. The violet doe took it uncertainly and headed into the back room. A number of minutes passed, and then she reappeared with nothing but the certificate. "Nothing." She said. "I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name. I'm really sorry." she added, seeing the look on Sonic's face. It was pretty rare to see him so confused, actually. Usually if he didn't understand something he'd either shrug it off completely or turn to Tails for a translation.

"It's on the paper." he offered once more. "Christmas Island."

"Y-yes. It's there." She agreed, at a loss for anything else to say.

It was time for Tails to step in. "Is there any way we could go in and look for ourselves?" he asked.

"I-I'm sorry, I… I'm not supposed to let anyone back there…" she trailed off, muttering something about sensitive information.

"We don't want to invade anyone's privacy." Amy said sincerely. "We just really need to find those papers. It's very important. Please." She added, seeing that the girl was hesitating. Orders _were _orders, but she didn't understand the filing system entirely, and it was more than possible she had somehow overlooked it. The pink hedgehog was looking at her pleadingly, and the blue one was clearly trying and failing to hide his own concern. She had a truly honest face, and there was something wrong with having no papers whatsoever. If he had a Christmas Island birth certificate, then he must have gotten it from this place, as it was the only hospital on the island. There was no way it could be anywhere but here. She made her decision.

"Don't tell anyone about this." She said, lowering her voice even though she knew no one was on this side of the building.

"We won't." Tails instantly promised. Beckoning quickly, she lifted up the section of the counter that separated her from the rest of the room, and opened the door to the back.

"Ten minutes." She said.

"Ten minutes." Tails agreed, and she shut the door, leaving them alone. He didn't even have the time to turn around before he heard the distinct whooshing noise that told him Sonic had already begun. He ran from shelf to shelf, fingers gliding across each folder to read the names before shoving it back into place and moving on to the next one. Tails had promised the receptionist they'd be out in ten minutes. The search took about a quarter of that time.

Amy and Tails stood off to the side, unable to be of much assistance; at the rate Sonic was going, attempting to search through any files would only get in the way. Besides, paperwork wasn't really Tails' forte. He glanced around, hoping to find a computer terminal which he would be far more familiar with, but was disappointed to see there was nothing. _This town really is rooted in the past. _Tails thought to himself. While gazing around, though, his eyes suddenly landed on a certain spot, and his eyes narrowed.

He stepped forward to investigate, but was cut off by Sonic, who had ended his search and returned to them, frowning. "No luck?" Amy asked, a tad unnecessarily. Sonic just shook his head, while Tails got a little closer to the wall.

"Hey, Sonic?" He said. "Didn't the receptionist say that no one was allowed back here, and that they had to keep the information secure?"

"Yeah." Amy and Sonic replied almost simultaneously. Tails pointed up, to a short rectangular window about ten feet off the ground. The wall was lined with them, but there was something about it that seemed… off. Flicking his tails into action, he rose up to inspect it closer, pushing on the pane slightly - and almost losing his balance as it fell open without resistance.

"What's up?" Sonic asked. Tails pointed to the lock on the window, though he knew it was unlikely he could see it. "Is the lock broken?"

"It's more than broken." He replied. "It's been cut."


	8. Source Code

**A/N: God I need an synonym for periwinkle. Any suggestions? I've thought of baby blue, but that's kind of hard to write in and still look smooth. But look! A new chapter!**

**...Yes, it is short. I see that. However, there is method in my madness. This is the first half of the chapter, so that the second isn't ridiculously tiny. The rest will follow...well, you know the drill. Comments and suggestions welcome as always, I'm not getting much in the way of feedback so I'd love to hear what you think!**

* * *

Dr. Robotnik leaned back in his chair and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hadn't looked at a clock in hours, but there was no mistaking the tired ache in his eyes, shoulders, wrists… everywhere. Everything ached, and he knew he had pulled another all-nighter. _Not necessarily, _he argued back. He dozed a few times while waiting for his code to compile so he could check to see if it was working. Depending on the size and complexity of the code, that could be anywhere from 15 to 33 minutes. Average that out to 24 minutes, and give it about 45 minutes between each compilation… how many times had he compiled again? Whatever. Assume he had worked from noon to six in the morning - he checked the clock - from noon to nine in the morning, and that was 21 hours, or 1260 minutes. 1260 divided by 24 was 51, so…

"What's this?"

Robotnik jerked as he snapped out of his half-asleep state. "Wha- Oh. It's you."

Clary stood near a pedestal in the center of the lab, on which a simple lead box sat. She was facing mostly away from him, focusing on the box, with only a single ear turned towards him to indicate she noticed him at all. "What are you doing here?" he asked, discreetly pulling up his digital library and closing the biology and medical texts he had up.

"It's been moving around a lot." Clary said, attention still on the box.

"Babies do that, Clary."

"More than usual, I mean. Like, a lot, a lot."

Ivo shrugged. "It's probably just a very energetic child."

"You didn't answer my question."

When Ivo frowned, uncomprehending, she gestured back towards the box. "What's this?"

"That's nothing." He started. "Just an experiment with- Hey!" he barked out sharply, as Clary went to open it. He managed to snap it shut before she could see anything inside it, and Clary cocked an eyebrow. For a man his age and size, he could move quite quickly when he wanted.

"What's the matter?" She asked, a touch _too _nonchalantly. "Is it a secret? Something you don't want me to see?"

Ivo's eyes narrowed. Was this a challenge, or was she just playing around? "That's not it at all. The object emits some sort of radiation; that's why it's in the lead box. I'm making sure it's not dangerous before I start messing around with it." There. That ought to satisfy her curiosity - or not. She had already moved on to the now more complete ladybug robot (Ladybot? Ivo hadn't come up with a proper name yet) and was examining it curiously.

"I think that term is a little misleading." She said. "Lots of things can be dangerous…" she delicately held up one of its blades with a single finger. "...If they're in the wrong hands. Don't you agree?" she asked, turning towards Robotnik as she let the arm drop.

"I think you've got a point," he answered, choosing his words carefully. "But some things are more dangerous than others."

"The very things we walk on are most dangerous." She carried on. "Rocks." She added, as Ivo looked confused. "That was the very first of man's tools, wasn't it? The very first human, discovering that using a rock to beat his prey to death was more efficient than his hands. Then it all went from there."

"And invention and innovation began." He finished.

"All the way up to here." Clary nodded, looking around. "Frightening, isn't it?"

"I would say 'exciting', but I suppose that works too." While he was carrying the conversation on as casually as he could, inwards his mind was racing. What was she on about? Was she trying to make conversation, and thought to appeal to his intellectual side? Did she have an intellectual side all her own, and was trying to share it with him? Was she trying to get underneath his skin, mess with his mind? Did she know something, or was she just fishing? Did she know anything? _Did she know everything?_

Ivo coughed, a sure sign he was ready to break this tension. "Not that I don't enjoy a little philosophy from time to time, but I believe you came with a purpose?"

"Yeah." Clary said, hopping up on the same table as last time, and undoing her jacket, this time without hesitation.

"Very well." He said, and pulling out the echolocation device he had used earlier (with a few modifications to make it more accurate and easier to use - perhaps he was putting more effort into this deal than he let on), he set to work.

Clary came to visit him more and more often over the course over the next few months, and each time Ivo did his best to help her. Occasionally she would stay longer than necessary, and try as he might, he couldn't be annoyed by it. She was rude and disrespectful, not to mention dangerously curious, but even so, her brashness made her honest, sometimes brutally so, and that was something Ivo respected. It was much better than dealing with the two-faced suckups back at the university. They may be polite, perhaps more than necessary, but he always got the feeling they were laughing at him behind his back. Perhaps they were; perhaps they weren't. Either way, Robotnik disliked the ambiguity. He needed straight answers, not layered comments he had to dissect, and on that level, Clary delivered. Well… somewhat, anyway.

Ivo sometimes forgot in their conversations just how perceptive Clary really was. There was many a time where he would get carried away by a conversation and say something he didn't mean to, only to turn around and see Clary's piercing stare, her gold eyes unwavering as she watched him. It was slightly unnerving how easily she could get information out of people without them realizing it.

Sometimes he kept careful watch over what he said around her as she discussed heavy topics and difficult subjects. Other times, though…

"Hey, did you ever wonder what it would be like to be a cat?" Clary asked out of the blue.

"Hm?" Came the intelligent and well-worded answer. He had been sitting at the monitor, typing as he prepared a new program. The coding was more or less done, but now he needed to run tests on the executable to ensure the logic was sound. It was all very complicated stuff, he had assured Clary earlier, though her tone indicated she wasn't convinced.

"Well, I guess not a cat… just a mobian, I mean." she continued. She was reclining on the table that had more or less become hers, though Ivo wasn't sure at what point that had been decided. Somehow, it just became less and less cluttered, until he never put things there entirely.

"You _are _a mobian, Clary." he pointed out.

"I know _that_, I mean do _you_ ever wonder?"

"No, I can't say that I do."

"Why not?" Clary asked, craning her head up so that she could see him properly.

"I just haven't given the matter much thought." he replied, and the click-clacking of keys continued.

"I've wondered what it's like to be human." Clary said, lying back down, her periwinkle tail moving back and forth slowly.

"Mmm."

"Then again," She cast one critical eye over at Robotnik, "It may be more trouble than it's worth. You're so hairless, it's a wonder you all aren't cold twenty-four seven, and you have to wear so many _layers _of clothes just to keep your privates in chec-"

At this, Robotnik coughed harshly, and the typing ceased as he looked over her shoulder at her. "What, too much information?" She asked innocently. "Given the situation I'm in, I didn't think you'd care so much."

"There's quite a difference between your current situation and the events that lead up to such a thing." Ivo responded, working hard to sound unembarrassed and clinical. Why did he let her stick around again? "And I can't say I'm interested in hearing about it."

"Hm." Was all she said, losing interest already. Letting her gaze roam around in search of something else to occupy her attention, she soon noticed another detail. "The box is gone." She commented.

"Huh?" Ivo asked, not quite able to keep up with the sudden topic change.

"That lead box you had. The radioactive thing." She clarified. "It's gone. Did you figure out the great mysteries of the box?" she asked, half teasing.

"Well." Ivo coughed. "Not quite. With this particular object, everytime I answer one question, several more pop up. I fear I may never be able to crack its secrets completely. Or at least," he added hastily, "Not with my current schedule. If I were to have all the time I needed to research it, I'd make much greater progress. That said, I've decided to halt research to perfect my Motobug's programming."

"Motobug?" Clary asked, and Ivo pointed over to a nearby table, where the ladybug robot lay. The shell was almost completely done, with what Clary assumed to be it's inside mechanisms surrounding it.

"I still need to work out its kinks, before it's ready to be fully assembled. No need to have a functional robot that can't do anything, eh?" If there's one thing Robotnik would _never _tire of, it was talking about his inventions, especially his robots. While her interest in the matter was debatable, she was one of the island's few residents who didn't seem to mind technology. While modern conveniences like TVs and computers were slowly making their way into the small town, locals for the most part were wary of allowing too much technology in their lives, fearing it would cause the younger generations to become reliant on it, and not learn to work for themselves. Clary found this fear both ridiculous and unwarranted, and on that Ivo and her were in complete agreement.

"What about other machines?" Clary asked. "Like cars. They work just fine, but they don't have any working coding."

"That's because cars aren't like robots. They may be made of metal, with engines and moving parts, but that's about where the similarities end. Cars require humans to pilot them. Robots don't."

"Do robots think on their own, then?"

Robotnik stopped to ponder this question. "In a sense, I suppose. They are programmed with what we call 'logic'. That is to say, they can analyze certain conditions given to them and make decisions based on those conditions, but their decision-making skill are based solely on those conditions. If confronted with a situation that isn't explicitly outlined in it's programming, and it has no default option, the robot has no idea what to do - it's stuck, because it doesn't understand the situation it's been placed in."

"In other words, it understands basic ideas, but it's not truly sentient. It's like a feral versus a mobian - well, more like feral bugs versus a mobian bug, intelligence wise." Clary mused. "Do you think it's even possible? Making a sentient robot, I mean?"

"There's been some debate about that, between the leading roboticists in the field." Ivo replied neutrally.

"I didn't ask them, I asked you. Do _you_ think it's possible?"

Ivo sat in silence for a moment. "Why ask me?" He said finally.

Clary snorted. "If there's one thing I understand about bigwigs, it's that they always think they're the best of the best. They say something's impossible because it's impossible for them, and they can't conceive of someone being better than them."

"What are you saying?" Ivo said. His hands had long since stopped typing, but he still stared at the screen, not really reading any of data that scrolled by.

"I'm saying that if anyone could build a robot with true sentience, it would be you."

Now Ivo turned and faced her fully, a million questions buzzing around in his head.

Clary simply stared back unwaveringly. Her gold eyes betrayed nothing.

* * *

"So, what's Doctor Robotnik been working on?" Joan asked casually, leaning on the bar as she presented Clary with a virgin drink. The hedgehog had been pleasantly surprised to see her favorite drinks weren't _too _changed with the removal of alcohol, and was even more surprised to discover there were a few that she actually liked more without.

Clary gave a noncommittal shrug. "Dunno. Some kinda robot. Looks like a ladybug."

"Weird." Joan replied.

"I know, I really don't get his choice in design. I can respect not wanting to go the cliche route, but he should still probably pick a bett-"

"No, I mean the robot itself is weird."

"Why?" Clary asked, looking up from her drink.

Joan went to answer, but was cut off by the arrival of two mobians. "Clary!" she heard a familiar voice call over her shoulder, and she resisted the urge to sigh heavily.

"Hello Jonathan." She said, turning around. Jonathan was closely followed by a mobian she didn't recognize, but couldn't quite get a good look at, due to him hiding closely behind Jonathan.

"Mind if we sit here?" Jon asked, and Clary shrugged.

"It's a public bar; Not like I can stop you."

"Well, ok then." he said, hopping up on the stool right next to her.

She was slightly irritated at the interruption (didn't he have anything better to do?), but decided not to send him away just yet. It wasn't like he was doing anything wrong. His friend followed Jonathan's example and took a seat on the other side of him.

"You want somethin'?" Joan asked them.

"No, thank you." Jonathan replied, while his friend nodded in agreement. "He and I have some work to do later on, so we'll need a clear head. Speaking of," he said, leaning back slightly, "Clary, Joan, this is Sebastian. He's currently in the running for mayor."

"How do you do?" Sebastian offered, extending his hand.

For a moment, an emotion flitted across her face that Jonathan couldn't quite describe, somewhere between arrogance and amusement, before she properly schooled her expression into polite interest. "Nice to meet you, Sebastian." She replied, taking his hand gracefully - before clamping it tightly enough that Sebastian actually half-winced before he resumed smiling, though it was a little forced.

"Likewise." He managed, trying not to show relief as she released him.

Clary smiled with the same polite expression she had been using as her head cocked slightly to one side, and Jonathan got the distinct impression she was laughing at him. He wasn't too far off from the truth - Clary had met dozens of men just like him during her time living with her family, and it never ceased to amaze her how _surprised _they all seemed when she did anything, even something as simple as a handshake, that wasn't perfectly ladylike. It was - for lack of a better word - hilarious. It was even better when she acted like there was nothing wrong, as nine times out of ten they would play along without a word, even when she knew it had to hurt. Their predicament never ceased to amuse Clary. After all, if they ever spoke honestly and openly, there wouldn't be a problem, would there?

Almost timidly, he offered his hand out to Joan, who merely eyeballed it for a moment, before turning around to the bar to fix another drink. Jonathan winced inwardly. Surely they could offer a little more respect, even for a stranger?

But Sebastian didn't seem to mind too much, his initial shyness melting away as he began chatting with Clary.

"So Jonathan tells me you're a regular marathon runner." Sebastian said, leaning on his elbows to speak to her across the bar.

"Oh, well, I prefer sprinting, but I think I have decent stamina." Clary said modestly.

"Really?" Sebastian asked curiously, "How fast can you go?"

Something glinted in Clary's eye, and her mouth quirked up in a smirk. "Fast." Was all she said.

"Like, faster than a car?"

"Maybe." Clary replied mysteriously. It seemed she was having fun baiting him with the vagueness of it all.

"Were you out running this morning?" he asked, and Jonathan could see even before she answered that she had. He resisted to urge to wince again. She was beginning to show now, and her walk was just a touch less graceful than it had been. Did she plan to keep it up all throughout the pregnancy?

"Yeah, I had to have a conversation with the Doc." She replied lightly.

"Which one?" Jonathan asked, slightly curious.

"Ivo." She said nonchalantly.

"Ivo? As in, Ivo Robotnik?"

"Yep, that's the one." She answered, taking a sip. "What?" she asked slightly less cheerfully, seeing the look on Jonathan's face.

"It's just… well… is he really qualified? I mean, I thought his PhD was in robotics?"

"Engineering, if I remember correctly. And as for qualifications, he's smart and has access to technology. That's all I care about. Common sense, too." She added as an afterthought. "Even some licensed doctors don't have that."

"But why not go to the hos-" He cut himself off at the sight of Joan, who was standing outside of Clary's line of sight making a frantic slicing gesture across her throat and shaking her head empathetically. "Er, the house? Y'know, Silvia?"

Whether she caught the minor slip or not, Jonathan couldn't tell but she carried on as though she hadn't. "Silvia's the one who told me to find a doctor, so I get the feeling that no, she's probably not wanting to play doctor. Besides, still need the tech."

"I guess you're right." Jonathan agreed. "I just… I can't help but feel like he's hiding something."

"Oh, he is." Clary agreed. "Without a doubt."

Jonathan looked up sharply. "If he is, then why do you trust him?"

"One," Clary said, holding up one finger, "Trust is a strong word. I'm getting him to do me a favor, and paying him well for it. It not really trust so much as it's in his best interests to do as I ask. And two," she added, holding up another finger, "I don't really care what he's hiding, as long as it doesn't concern me."

"You aren't worried people could be in danger?" he pressed.

Clary gave him a sidelong look. "Honestly, Jon, he's a roboticist, not a gunsmith. I think I'd know if someone was in danger."

* * *

Ivo hadn't been lying exactly when he told Clary he had put away the contents of the box to work on his other projects - it was what he intended to do. But his work with the Motobug had hit a dead end, and with no immediate ideas popping up, his mind had invariably gone back to the box. Like the need to run one's tongue over the gap where a tooth used to be, he couldn't put the mystery out of his mind; it was just so rare for him to be faced with such a challenge. So much to learn, and yet so much more to discover - it was a gift that continued to give and give, a bottomless well of information. Ivo simply couldn't help himself as he pulled out the box and scanned it one last time.

The scans were all coming up clean, meaning it should be safe to hold, yet Ivo couldn't help a sort of nervousness as he cracked open the lid to gaze inside and hesitantly grab the object. It felt cool and smooth in his hand, like glass, and regardless of it's location it always seemed to twinkle and glow faintly, as if catching the light from an unknown source. It was perfectly sized and shaped to fit into Ivo's hand, and a bizarre thought entered his mind, the feeling that somehow it was _meant _to be held by him; an impossible thought, but enticing nonetheless.

As he admired the faint shimmer and the deep, rich color, and recalled all the massive spikes of energy his machines had picked up while scanning the object, he couldn't help but agree with whomever had decided to call it the _Chaos Emerald_.


	9. Never Alone

There were a lot of unpleasant side effects to pregnancy. Clary still maintained that the nausea was one of the worst parts, but the insomnia was less than pleasant. Especially on nights when all she wanted to do was sleep.

Like tonight, for example. Tonight was a perfect night for doing nothing but sleep. Her stomach had been bothering her all day, and she had chosen to help Joan at the bar with some minor jobs that needed doing. She was exhausted, and all she wanted was for the day to be over.

She lay there for a while, in the strange twilight between awake and asleep, not really focusing on anything, when a vision of her old life came to her, half-dream, half-memory. The dream played in reverse, starting when she was older and then gradually she grew younger.

She was 15, just starting her rebellious years, standing in her father's study, her arms crossed over her chest and nose in the air.

She was 14, and Franny was in the middle of an exasperated lecture. Clary's own pose hadn't changed, though a twinge did catch in her heart as she saw her sister's face fall with disappointment.

She was 10, and running into the kitchen for breakfast just after a morning jog. Her uncle and father were both hanging by the kitchen door, but little Clary couldn't wait to try some of her sister's crepes. "_Too bad," _Franny teased inside her head. "_You didn't help make them, you don't get to have any!"_

_Clary stuck out her tongue. "I wanna have breakfast! I'm hungry!"_

"_If you don't do the work, you won't get any rewards." She said, turning and shaking her finger at her, with one hand still on the frying pan's handle._

_Clary looked to her parents for support, but they were still chatting amongst themselves. "But Fran-ny!"_

"_She did work quite hard out in the fields, Miss Francisca. It might not have been your work, but she did try very hard." Their butler spoke up from his place against the wall, having already set the table before anyone even noticed._

"_Oh, all right." Francisca sighed, still pretending to be stingy. "I _suppose _you could have some…"  
_"_Yay!" Clary cheered as she hiked her way up into the tall dining chair - she was what her mother had called a 'late bloomer', and had yet to hit her growth spurt. She smiled over at him, as Francisca set a plate down in front of her. "Thanks, Vert."_

_In reply, he made his traditional bow, right hand over his heart. "It's my pleasure, Miss Clarissa."_

She was 8, and was listening to a late night horror program on the radio. Just as the girl on the radio screamed as the werewolf pounced, a hand came down and turned the dial off. "_Time for bed, Miss Clarissa." Vert's voice rang out, polite but firm._

"_Can't I stay up a little longer?" She asked, though her attempt at persuasion was probably not helped by the huge yawn that overtook her as she finished her question._

_A corner of his mouth twitched, but he stayed straight-faced. "I think not, Miss. Your mother and father would have my head, and besides that, it's not healthy that a young girl should stay up so late."_

_Though she grumbled a little longer, she did obey, following himm into the bathroom and hopping up on a stool to reach the sink and brush her teeth, then taking the nightgown he offered her and changing for bed. As she hopped into the bed he had made previously, she stopped suddenly, as if to ask him something. "Vert…"_

"_Yes, Miss Clarissa?"_

"_...What would you do if there was a monster in the manor?"_

"_I would kill it, Miss Clarissa."_

"_What if it was in my room?"_

"_I would make sure you were safe, and then I would kill it."  
_"_You'd protect me?"  
_"_With my life, Miss Clarissa."_

_Her fears assuaged, she obediently snuggled down into the covers, though she remained alert, her eyes still open and ears forward._

"_Would it make you feel better if I were to watch over you, Miss Clarissa?"_

"_Can you?"_

"_Gladly, Miss Clarissa." And with that he pulled a nearby chair closer to the bed, where Clary could see him and know he was there, and sat, upright and at attention, as though one of the horror program monsters were to come bursting through the door at any minute._

He stayed there all night.

* * *

Clary sat and stared at the phone in her hand for what felt like an hour, but was really closer to fifteen minutes. She ought to know, given that the digital display showed the time in clear, precise numbers. Numbers that were definitely _not _the phone number she wanted to call. But she kept staring at the screen as if hoping the phone would magically dial the number and make the call for her. (**2:52 PM**)

This was it. This was her chance.

Silvia was out of the house, off to purchase groceries (the food in the house had been disappearing mysteriously quickly, but Silvia chose to make no comment on the matter) and probably wouldn't be back for another half-hour. It wasn't that she didn't want her around, exactly; she loved her dearly, and had her own sister not left such a sour taste in her mouth she might consider Silvia one, but there were some things that she had to do on her own. This was one of them.

_So call them._

Clary took one last, long gaze at the time (**3:07 PM**) before finally dialing the number she had recited to herself over and over for the past twenty minutes.

* * *

It was late afternoon, almost early evening, and a quiet stillness had settled over the manor. It was fairly common for the residents of the manor to retire to the sitting room, and even with three living beings in the room, there was very little sound or movement. The only noise ever made was the flipping of pages from the book the father was reading, and the barely audible slide of thread through the fabric of the cross stitch the other two were working on.

There was no real reason to keep the stillness, no spoken or written rule against it, but the room was like that of a library, where the atmosphere itself seemed to hush all around it. Sunlight streamed through the curtains which, despite the open window, hardly moved, and the steady tick of the grandfather clock in the foyer was audible even through the wall. It was a beautiful day outside; the sun was shining brightly, but the air itself wasn't overly hot, and though they were a good mile from the coast, Francisca Ahveter still swore she could hear the gentle, steady roar of the ocean waves.

She paused in her needlework for a moment to admire the scene outside the window. A large, grassy plain spread out over the manor grounds like a beautiful painting. Near the center of the window, the earth sloped up into a steep hill, over which a single tree stood tall. The tree was partially bent over, it's branches hanging low over the ground shading it from the heat of the sun, which shone brightly even through what few clouds hung in the sky. Every so often a light breeze would blow, and the entire field would roll like waves over the ocean's surface, as the old swing hanging from the tree swayed softly back and forth.

It was a beautiful, picturesque scene, and Francisca made a mental note to capture the moment on canvas later. It was considered rude to set up her easel and paints while her parents were in the room; the sitting room was called a sitting room for a reason, and at this time of day they all sat together. Sure, they didn't talk much, but the silence they shared was a warm, comfortable silence. At least, Francisca thought so.

As it was, though, she supposed there was nothing wrong with doing a quick sketch on paper to help cement the scene in her mind while it was still there. As she stood up to leave, her father looked up from his book, squinting, and Francisca hid a frown. His eyesight had gotten progressively worse throughout the years, though whether it was old age or the constant reading in low light, it was hard to say. "I'm going to go fetch some sketching paper." She said to him. He nodded and went back to reading without a word.

She was on her way to the stairs in the foyer when the phone rang from the far end table, startling her and her parents slightly. Appearing out of nowhere as was his custom, their butler picked it up before the end of the second ring.

Vert the Chameleon was really more than a mere butler, as his duties far exceeded the expectations of a normal manservant, but if disliked the work, he never complained about it. Vert's family had been serving the Ahveters for generations, even before the old monarchy, and they were trained the same way their ancestors were during the war. For instance, Vert's duties included, but not limited to, cooking, cleaning, organizing all paperwork, managing the family's finances and investments, overseeing the other servants, heading security, protecting the heir with his life, and (though it was no longer considered necessary in this day and age) eliminating any rivals to the Ahveter's lofty position discretely.

No matter how frivolous some may consider it, he was a fully trained assassin specializing in ninjutsu and tactical espionage, and his natural abilities as a chameleon only made him more dangerous. His quiet, polite manner belied his true talent, but Francisca had once seen him in action against a foolish team of kidnappers hoping to take her and her sister as ransom. After that, the only question she had regarding his abilities as a bodyguard was where on earth he managed to hide a seemingly endless supply of kunai blades when all he wore was a bowtie and a pair of thin tuxedo cuffs.

"Ahveter Manor." he greeted, in curt but pleasant tones.

Hearing his voice was a relief; though she knew her family was never one to do their own work, there was still some small voice in her head that worried what would happen if her parents, or heaven forbid her sister had picked up.

"Vert, it's me, Clary," she said, her voice lowering conspiratorially even though there was no one to eavesdrop. "Please don't tell the others I'm here."

There was a slight pause, and then he spoke again. "Ah, Mrs. Plauder, how great to hear from you again!"

It took her a moment to place the name, then smirked to herself. Mrs. Diana Plauder, aka Mrs. _Never takes a hint and shuts up. _No one would answer the phone, even if they were around to take it.

"Thanks Vert, I just wanted to talk to you."

"Of course, Ma'am, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Well… Yes." Clary admitted. "I'm… having a baby. And I feel like you ought to know." She had gotten a little bit better at telling others, but the town gossips had gotten to most before she had to deliver the news. Probably one of the only favors Ruth has ever done her. There was a sharp rush of static, probably the poor reception on the island.

"Oh, my! That's some news!" He continued in the same overly polite tones. Clary understood. They were still proceeding as if she were some chatterbox trying to deliver the latest news in the most exaggerated and drawn-out way possible. Which, to be fair, wasn't that far from the truth.

"It's, uh, a little difficult to talk about on the phone. I know it's a lot to ask, but is there any way you could get away long enough to come here?"

"Well, I might be able to arrange something. Of course I must ask the Master to see if the family will be attending."

"No, wait-!"

There was a soft thump, and for a few agonizing minutes all Clary heard was silence, as he hadn't hung up yet. He had probably just set the receiver down. Just as she was about to hang up, he returned to the phone. "I'm afraid the Master and family have a prior engagement, but I do have permission to take my leave for a day. Might I suggest lunch?"

The knot in her stomach unraveled a little. Of course they would try to get out of it. That's why Vert asked. Right? "Lunch would be great."

"Do you know of any venues in the area?"

"Uh, there's one really safe place… It's a bar called The Sleeping Bear. I know the owner, and she could get us a nice, secluded table, probably."

"Excellent, then. I'll see you there at one."

"Alright." Clary sighed, and for the briefest moment she swore she could hear the echo over the phone.

* * *

Walking into The Sleeping Bear felt entirely new, as though she hadn't spent so many years here with Joan. She wasn't looking for her company today, but someone she hadn't seen in years, though perhaps that was, in a sense, her own fault.

Disengaging from her family was harder than she first thought it was in her rebellious teenage years. There were sometimes certain things she missed, sudden flights of nostalgia that hit her hard and fast as she lay half-asleep on her bed at night: memories of being held and protected, being comforted and reassured, memories from the time when the world was fun and simple and alive. Memories of her and Franny, back when that nickname was cute and not demeaning. Sitting in her room, late at night, the sensation of the brush across her hair, her sister's beautiful voice singing a sweet lullaby to her.

And then her was Vert. Her strong, brave hero. The man who could do anything, and then some. The person who got her through the dark times when she felt betrayed by everybody she loved. The man who had spent hours training her in martial arts, no matter how "unladylike" it was, in the fields just beyond the manor, in the heat of summer and the cold of winter. The man who once stood by her bed all night long without so much as a single protest. He never called her foolish or mocked her, simply offered to stand guard, and did, from that night until she awoke in the morning. The man who she owed everything, and then left without a word to him.

Guilt was an emotion she rarely felt, but when it hit her, it hit _hard._

Joan had been understanding when they talked on the phone, and after a word of warning not to start any more fights that was only half joke, took Vert's description down and reserved a table. It was near the back, and as Clary looked in that direction she saw Vert had already arrived, and was waiting for her at her table. As she approached, he rose and pulled out a chair for her. "You don't have to do that, you know." She said as she sat down, and Vert returned to his chair.

"You may have left the Ahveter family, but in my eyes, you will always be my young lady." He said, smiling faintly. Clary couldn't help but reciprocate his smile.

"You haven't changed a bit, Vert." she said. "I'm glad."

"I've done my best, Miss Clarissa - Clary," he corrected himself, just as she opened her mouth. "Forgive me. It has been some time since you were heard from in the manor, and you know your family does not use your chosen name."

"Yeah, I didn't think they would." She said with a tired sort of bitterness. Of course they would never bother.

"You're showing." He pointed out, and Clary looked down. She had finally caved and bought larger shirts, and even though she still battled with her now-changing center of gravity to walk gracefully and regally, it was a losing battle.

"Yes." She half-sighed, half-smiled. "Guess there's no denying it now, huh?"

"Was there ever a point where you _were _denying it?" He asked.

"A little… At first." She confessed. "I was…." There was no point in hiding it from him - he usually knew her emotions better than she did. "A little afraid… I've never had to raise a child before, I didn't know what to do. I've started to wonder… if maybe it'd be better if I gave it up. Better for the both of us."

"I think I understand… It can be difficult, for new parents to face the fact that they don't know what to do. But, like all our fears of the unknown, they must be faced headfirst."

"You're right, as always." Clary replied. "I still don't feel like I'm really fit to be a parent."

Vert was silent for a moment as he took a sip of his tea. Then… "Do you remember when your mother finally let you take martial arts training from me? And you were so unhappy when you realized that I wasn't about to teach you how to walk on walls or break boards with your bare hands? I told you, over and over-"

"Start with the basics," Clary finished, "and the rest will follow. There is no carving if the tree never grows; there's no tree if water never flows."

"You remember." He said fondly.

"I always tried to keep it in mind, when I do everything… not just fighting." She replied.

"Good then; keep it in mind when you do this."

"But I don't know even the basics! How am I going to do this if I don't know where to start?" Her face colored even as she tried to school her emotions back in check, and she tried to hide it by raising her tea for a drink.

Vert took another long drag from his own mug, then set it back down, and Clary unknowingly copied him. "Let's start with this, then." He said decisively. "Do you love your child?"

"Do I… huh?" Clary said, clearly thrown off. Stupid. She was the one supposed to be throwing others off, not the other way around. Then again, Vert was unfazeable, even to her.

"Do you love your child?" He repeated again without changing expression. "That should be the cornerstone for all parental relationships."

"Yeah, well, not for mine." Clary grumbled into her cup.

"Nor for mine, but both are irrelevant in this case. The question is whether or not _you _love your child."

Clary blinked in surprise. In all her years of living with him, she could never once remember him telling anyone anything about his personal life. She looked down, and tried to concentrate on the question. Vert waited patiently, knowingly.

"I… I want to love it." She said at long last. "I don't want to sound like a horrible person, but…. is it even possible to love someone you've never even met before?"

"I don't know. Is it?" It was his most commonly employed tactic when playing therapist: turning all the questions they asked him back to them. Clary would be seriously frustrated if it wasn't for the fact that it was working.

"I suppose I love it in the sense that… I don't want it to die. I want it to be born, and grow healthy and strong… Is that love? _Don't _say 'is it?', I know you will!" She snapped as he opened his mouth. "I really don't know, Vert. Besides, no offense, but how much do you know about being in my position?" It was a nasty jab, more meant to derail the conversation than hurt him, but she knew one would probably lead to the other. At least, that's what she was expecting.

Instead, he smiled softly to himself, as if sharing a secret, then glanced over his shoulder. "You can come out now, Espio." he called.

And Clary's breath froze as a second chameleon shimmered into being from where he was camouflaged. "Hello." The child said shyly. Clary said nothing, too busy staring at him to bother with formalities she disliked anyway. There was no mistaking it; it was Vert's child. They had the same sharp, angular features, the same deep purple color. The same blending ability. When did this happen?

"You… you had a kid?" She managed. The _And you didn't tell me? _was left unspoken.

"Many things have happened since you left, Clary."

Clary wasn't sure what to think about that. It had been many years, but in her mind, she never imagined things changing. Indeed, if their very way of life was rooted in the past, how could there ever be change? Surely all was exactly as she had left it. Suddenly she wondered how old Francisca looked. She had always been the pretty one. Clary was willing to bet she was even more beautiful now. She probably looked like the responsible, intelligent young woman she was, and a pang went through her heart. She quickly tried to banish it by changing the subject.

"So… You're name's Espio, huh?" she said, addressing the child.

"Mm-hm." he answered, looking down at his hands.

"He's still a little shy. He hasn't had too much contact with the outside world yet." Vert explained. "Espio, it's alright. Clary is a friend."

Clary leaned over and pulled out a chair between her and Vert, a silent invitation that he hesitantly took. "How old are you, Espio?" By way of reply, he held up five fingers. "Five, huh? Well, you must be awful clever to be able to blend in so well, so young. I didn't even know you were there." As she said the last sentence, she looked over at Vert accusingly, who was smiling his faint smile again. What was so amusing?

"I… I learned from Father how to blend." He said, barely raising his voice.

"He will soon be traveling to the mainland on the east side of the mobian continent," Vert explained, "where he will be trained in ninjutsu."

"So young?" Clary asked, frowning.

Vert shrugged. "It is our way." was all he said. He took Clary's and his cup, and set them in front of Espio. "Go fetch us some more tea, will you?"

"Yes, Father." The chameleon said, bowing his head and taking the cups.

"What's so funny?" She asked the instant Espio was out of earshot.

"You." He replied simply.

Clary frowned.

"You've been insisting that you don't know how to mother, or be kind and loving to a child, yet a mere minute in my son's presence and you've already warmed to him. Just wait and see, Miss Clary, you'll be a mother yet."

There was a pause, and then a soft, semisweet smile from Clary. "It's good to see you again, Vert." She said.

"And to you, as well, Miss Clary."

She hesitated, then looked at him questioningly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About Espio? You were long gone by then."

"You knew where I was."

"Physically, yes. But not emotionally."

When Clary looked puzzled, he clarified, "I knew that you had wanted to leave for a long time. I knew how badly you wanted out, and how much you resented your family for keeping you locked in the manor, what you saw to be a prison. I suppose you could say…" He sighed, as if it were hard to admit. "I suppose I was afraid that that resentment passed on to me. After all, you had made it abundantly clear that you no longer wished to see us."

Clary swallowed. Damn this new feeling of nostalgia and the waves of guilt it was bringing upon her. She had made her decision. She wasn't going back now.

"I don't want to see them ever again. But you're different. You always were."

"I'm glad, Clary." He said, dropping the title for the first time she could ever remember, and gazed at her like… well, like a father would. Loving and proud. She swallowed again, throat suddenly very tight, and was more than grateful when Espio returned with the teacups.

"Well, at least I'm not the only one changing having children around here," she joked, hoping to lighten the mood. "At least Franny's still probably the same."

"She's much like you remember, yes."

"Bet she's loving being an only child again." Clary said as airily as she could.

"Hard to say." He was clearly seeing through her real question, but seemed reluctant to give an answer. For her sake, or for Franny's? "She has taken to her arts tremendously - more even since you last spoke with her. Her family is hailing her as a prodigy."

"Naturally, she was always _soooo _talented." Clary said, trying to sound sarcastic.

Espio tapped his father on the shoulder and pointed at the clock. "Oh. Sadly, we must be going soon."

"Oh, so soon?" Clary asked, rising out of her chair nonetheless.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. You know we were only granted a day's travel for lunch. We'll need to be back in time to oversee dinner."

"Surely they could manage one night without you?" Clary asked, somewhat selfishly. _Gods forbid they do something themselves for a change._

He smiled again. "As much as I loved our talk, it simply wouldn't do to shirk my duties. What kind of a butler would I be if I did that? Do keep in touch though, I should love to hear all about it when your child is born. Perhaps they and Espio will be good friends someday."

"Yes, perhaps…" She agreed, a little distracted. As he began towards the exit, she called back on final time. "You said Franny was a prodigy in the arts. Which one exactly has she been working on?"

Vert turned. "A lot of things. Sewing, painting, drawing… There's only one thing she hasn't worked on in years, and that's her singing. She plays, but never sings."

Part of Clary was screaming at herself to shut up, but the other part had to know what she thought she knew already. Her sister's beautiful voice was gone? The one that had comforted and lulled her to sleep on so many nights? "About what time did she stop?"

"About four or five years ago, I'd say." And with that, he was gone.

_Four or five years ago. _Without a doubt, her suspicions were true. Her singing had stopped... The night Clary left, five years ago. And all Clary could hear was her sweet sister's voice, both miles and years apart.

* * *

**A/N: I am honestly ashamed of how many years it took me to figure out that "Espio" is short for "Espionage". Seriously. Anyway, as a nod to that little theme, "Vert" is short for "Covert". I feel like this is about the time where I _would _apologize for being so late (this has seriously gotta be a record, and not in a good way) and promise to do better next time, but... Well, promises, promises. I probably sound like a broken record. I forget things sometimes, like eating, sleeping, and writing, but I never forget how much I love you, my faithful reviewers! Thanks a bunch for sticking this long hiatus out with me, and sending me little reminders when I need them!**


	10. Familiar and Unfamiliar

**Ok, ok. Yes, this is bad. It is late. Very late. I see that. But look, it's long! ...ish. Ok, this time I'm really gonna try and push to get this next chapter out to you properly. Honest. Scout's honor. **_**Tia you were never a sco**_**SHHHHH! Scout's honor! I'm looking at… Late August as a potential deadline. Am I going to keep it? Unlikely, but I'm gonna try. I'm sorry you guys, I really am.**

**Meanwhile, PLOT!**

* * *

"So… What should we do, Sonic?" Tails asked, as they left the hospital in a bit of a daze.

To be honest, Sonic was at a loss, but as the fearless leader (not to mention big brother figure) he felt like he ought to offer something. He cast about for an idea, anything, when a memory of a certain someone popped into his head. _If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to come by!_

"Wolfe." He said out loud. "Let's go see Mayor Wolfe and see what he thinks about this."

"Do you think he'll be able to do anything?" Amy asked.

"He's the mayor, I'm not sure there is anyone else who can do more." He pointed out. "And besides, if something… _not right_ is going on in this town, he would want to know."

"I guess you have a point." She conceded.

As it turned out, Mayor Wolfe was having brunch with an important client, so the gang was stuck waiting a while for him to get out, much to Sonic's chagrin. "This town is freaking tiny, how important could this meeting be?" He grumbled.

"Sonic, the size of a town really doesn't have that much to do with how important it is. Think of how important things like the economy is. Since it's so small, in fact, it could be even worse for them if they don't have imports and exports regulated. Less people would be interested in doing business, which means if one business suddenly left, the economy could collapse…"

"Ok, ok, I get it!" Sonic threw up his hands in mock surrender, staving off whatever lecture Tails was about to go into. "I don't need a lecture on microeconomics, I'm just grumbling out loud."

After a short amount of time, one of Mayor Wolfe's bodyguards came out of his room, escorting a human in a business suit, who politely thanked him and the secretary for their time before leaving.

As the human left, the bodyguard, a greenish-blue lizard like mobian, turned to the group.

"I take it you don't have a meeting scheduled?"

The three shook their heads.

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to be brief. Mayor Wolfe has an appointment with the city planners in 15 minutes, and he can't be late."

"Fine by me," Sonic retorted, "I hate business meetings."

With a quiet, "Hmph.", he led them to the mahogany door that led to Mayor Wolfe's office, poking his through the door before allowing them in. "Mayor Wolfe, you have unscheduled visitors. I told them to be brief."

"Who is it?" He called from a massive stack of papers, sounding quite hassled, but as he poked his head out to see his face broke into a wide smile. "_Sonic! _How wonderful to see you! And your friends, too!"

"We're sorry if we came at a bad time." Tails offered. The paperwork on his desk was in such a high stack Wolfe had to stand to see over them, and his mane seemed rather frazzled, though he had made a clear attempt to flatten it.

"Not at all, not at all! I always have time for my people, it's one of the reasons I'm Mayor!" He moved the paperwork to one side of the desk so he could see them clearly, then took a seat and gestured at them to do the same. "How is the search going?"

"Well… That's what we came to talk to you about." Sonic began.

He, Tails and Amy shared a quick glance, silently determine how best to go about delivering the bad news. Deciding to be blunt, Sonic said, "The files aren't in the hospital. I had my birth certificate, but everything else… All the files and stuff on my family isn't there."

"Not there?" Mayor Wolfe asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"There's something else." Tails joined in. "When we went to investigate, there was evidence of a forced entry."

"A forced entry?" he repeated.

"Yes." Sonic answered.

"Oh, my." Major Wolfe leaned back a moment, taking a deep breath. "This is very troubling."

"Do you know of anyone who would want to purposefully stop Sonic from finding his family?" Amy asked, finally deciding to interject.

"Stop Sonic? No, no, I couldn't imagine… Everyone here is already almost close as family, I can't think of a person who would want to…" He hesitated. "Well… I couldn't picture anyone I _know, _per se, but I do know that some of the residents here tend to… Look down on outsiders, as it were. Though for someone to go to such lengths… It's unimaginable."

"Is there anyone in particular you can think of?" Sonic prompted.

"Well… No, not really," Wolfe said. "Though there are people in the village that don't take kindly to new faces, we mustn't point fingers at each other without proof. That attitude is what lead to the incident so long ago…" He trails off for a moment, then shakes his head, as if to clear it.

"So you can't help us?"

"I can't accuse anybody without proof. That said, I wouldn't say I can't do _anything_." He winked at them. "I'll have my men look into the matter… Quietly. Though the time of lies and secrets in this village is long past, I think we still have the art of discretion."

"That's good, at least." Tails said, sounding relieved, though Amy's eyebrows knitted together at the mention of a dark past.

"Did something… happen here?"

"Yeah, _something _did." Sonic agreed, looking expectantly at Mayor Wolfe.

Wolfe sighed and shuffled uncomfortably. "It's… not something we like to talk about."

"Someone's gotta." Sonic pointed out.

"Well," Wolfe sighed again, and lowered his voice, though they were the only . "One of the members of our community wasn't who they said they were. There was a fight over it, and a lot of people lost their lives. It was a _huge _tragedy, and even now people are afraid of it ever happening again. That's why we're so reserved from the outside world. It's very hard to tell friend from foe, and many of the residents would do _anything _to prevent history repeating itself. Even… less than ethical things."

"You're suggesting there's a witch hunt on the island." Tails said.

"More or less, I suppose, though I would like to use a less grim term. As mayor, I do what I can to help keep people grounded in the present, and calm the fears of our residents, but even I'm not above suspicion. Please, try your best to be careful. The last thing we'd want is to cause a panic. Of course _I _believe you!" He added hastily, seeing the looks on the three's faces, "but other people might not. That's why no one is particularly keen on talking about it, even in private. As they say, the walls have ears."

"So what do you suggest we do, then?" Amy asked finally, after a long pause.

"Honestly? What do _I _suggest?" He considered for a moment. "Enjoy the festival. I mean it. I'll have a few of my trusted men look into who could have broken into the hospital, and why, but to have too many people nosing around asking questions will look suspicious, especially from outsiders. So sit back and enjoy the festival, and hopefully people will begin to realise you mean them no harm."

"You really expect us to do nothing?" Sonic asked incredulously.

"I know it's hard," Mayor Wolfe said, holding up his hands in a calming gesture, "but to help people believe that you're not here to cause trouble, you need to _show _that you won't cause trouble."

"Be careful," Tails warned, the barest hint of a smile on his face. "The more you tell him _not _to cause trouble, the more tempted he is."

"Hey, I resent that!" Sonic retorted, but Tails' joking tone was contagious, and he couldn't help but smile as Amy giggled. The intense tension in the room slowly dissolved, and everyone seemed to relax a bit in their seats.

"I'm not exactly happy about it," Sonic admitted, a little calmer, "but you are right about not wanting to kick the hornet's nest. I'll hold off for a few days, but I can't guarantee my patience will last much longer than that."

"I suppose that's all I can ask for." Mayor Wolfe said. Though he smiled at them fondly, the kindness in his eyes couldn't quite hide the sheer exhaustion emanating from him. He looked like he needed a nap, badly, but just as Amy was about to point it out, there came a knock on the door.

"Enter." Wolfe called, and the door opened to reveal the bodyguard from earlier.

"Your next meeting is ready, sir." He said, barely passing a glance over at the other three.

"Alright then, send them in." He replied, with another forced smile. "Goodbye, Sonic, Amy, Miles. I hope you have a fun time at the festival."

The three said their goodbyes and then left, the bodyguard watching them to make sure they took the right hallway.

"I take it you were listening in?" He said, half exasperated, half affectionate.

The bodyguard nodded once.

"Well then, you know what to do."

"Right away, sir." With that, he left Wolfe alone, with the stack of papers and the looming threat of yet another deadline.

* * *

"Well, this could be a real pain." Tails said, sighing, and the others nodded their sentiment. While it was true Mayor Wolfe had promised to extend his help, the prospect of having to wait for results while doing nothing was still a sour one.

"Maybe we should get some lunch." Amy said. "We're gonna be here a while, might as well grab something to eat."

"Yeah." Tails agreed. "Maybe we'll feel better with some food in our stomachs. We never come up with good ideas while hungry."

"Yeah." Sonic said neutrally. "Listen, pick me up something, will you? I'm going for a run."

While Amy looked concerned, Tails just nodded knowingly. He had lived with the speedster long enough to know how his mind worked. Confused? Run. Upset about something? Run? Anxious, worried, angry? Run. Running will fix everything.

So he wasn't even close to surprised when Sonic wanted to go on a jog after what had happened.

"We'll see you later then, Sonic."

"Yeah, bye-" Amy began, but he was gone before she finished. She paused for a moment, worried. "Do you think he's ok?" She said to Tails.

"Yeah." Tails replied. "It's just a minor setback, I'm sure. But to you know how much Sonic hates waiting, especially for things he really wants."

Amy flashed back to the look he had on his face in the plane, when they were getting ready to land. "How badly do you think he wants this?"

"He's dreamed of it for years; you know that."

Actually, Amy did _not _know that, and it filled her with a sudden sense of exclusion. How had she never known that part of her so-called friend?

As they started walking down the street that led to several small shops and stalls, Amy began to wonder what else she didn't know about her hero.

* * *

Sure, this was a frustrating development, and yes, trying to peacefully relax when he came here to _find _something was difficult, but nothing got out his frustrations quite like some good old fashioned exercise. Sonic certainly hated the ocean, but running on the beach had its advantages.

For one thing, it had few obstacles, so he didn't have to focus as much on the terrain ahead of him, leaving him to contemplate the most recent developments in his life, which was both a good and a bad thing. For another, the sand on the beach gave easily under his feet, making running far more difficult for him and presenting an interesting challenge. It also had the side effect of tiring him out quicker, which was good for him, because right now he was looking for that exercise.

After a few laps around the island, he declared it good enough; he wasn't quite exhausted, but he was tired enough that his head didn't have much extra energy for negative emotions anymore.

Making a straight line back to where he knew the village was, he wound up in a small quad-like area. There were a few groups of mobians here and there, occupying themselves with tidying up or decorating, and in the middle of it was a nice looking fountain. It was there Sonic decided to rest for a moment, before heading off to find Tails and Amy.

Sitting on the stone edge of the fountain, where the spray of water kept things cool enough to sit without burning his legs, he took a deep breath and rested back on his hands, tilting his head up and closing his eyes, letting the mist of falling water cool him. It was peaceful, for a time, but after a few moments the sounds of a tense argument broke through the soft patter of the fountain.

"...would just _listen _to me!"

"I told you, leave me alone!"

"Don't talk back to me, young man!"

Cracking open an eye, he couldn't help but cast his gaze over to where the bickering was coming from. A family of hedgehogs was walking by. An older one with violet hair was lecturing a younger green male. Behind her, a similar looking purple hedgehog was trailing behind, clearly embarrassed.

The green hedgehog (who Sonic presumed was probably her son) was, in his opinion, the epitome of trying too hard. He wore a bright orange vest and a fanny pack around his waist, and a silver medallion hung around his neck. His ears and lip were covered with a variety of piercings, and his quills were messed up in a shabby imitation of a mohawk.

Right now, his arms were crossed over his chest, and he glanced away from the older woman with a huff. The girl hanging behind the two also had her arms crossed, but in an entirely different way. She glanced around the plaza every so often, her ears flattened, and it was obvious she was praying no one she knew was watching.

_Fat chance, _thought Sonic, half amused, half sympathetic. He was most certainly not the only person tuned into the spectacle. At this point, like a nasty car accident, it was hard to ignore. It seemed that even the mother had finally taken notice of all the eyes on her, as she took a moment to brush her hair back into place and readjust her purse. Taking a deep breath and holding her head high, she made her way imperiously towards a picnic table, where she set her things down. The other girl quickly headed to the stall it belonged to to order some food, and hung around the window rather than return to the table, where the green hedgehog had finally agreed to sit. He still faced away from her, sulking petulantly.

Slowly, the crowd returned to normal, as people resumed what they were doing. The mother sighed deeply through her nose, and cast her gaze around the rest of the plaza, as if to seemingly find something else to pin her frustrations on.

Unfortunately, that observation turned out to be truer than Sonic realised, as her gaze landed on him and (though Sonic scarcely believed it possible) sharpened. A quick glance around the plaza to make sure there was no longer any attention on her, and she stood up, leaving her son at the table and heading Sonic's way quickly.

Sonic himself didn't show much of a reaction, only raising an eyebrow as she stalked over. "What are you doing here?" She quietly hissed at him.

"Er, sitting?" Sonic replied nonchalantly. He wasn't one to be intimidated, especially not by middle-aged women brandishing handbags. She would need _at least _three more rocket launchers before he began to take her seriously.

She apparently didn't find his attitude amusing, as she only scowled more. "Are you Sonic the Hedgehog?"

"Yep." He replied airily. "What can I do for you?"

"You can leave." She replied sharply.

He made a big show of turning and looking around. "Sorry, is this your fountain? I didn't know."

"I bet you think you're funny, don't you?" She demanded.

"Yeah, I _am _pretty funny. Some of my friends suggested I do standup, but I'm better known for my improv work."

"You are _such _an ill-mannered brat!"

Sonic made another exaggerated glance, this time at the table where her son was sitting, still sulking. "Lady, I hardly think you're one to talk."

"Why, _you little-_!"

"Mom!"

The purple hedgehog was back at the park bench, holding paper plates of food. She looked at Sonic, clearly worried about her mother causing another scene, and gestured back to the food. "It's here!"

The mother glanced at her daughter, then back to Sonic, clearly deciding whether the argument was worth pursuing or not. Finally, she leaned down and said quietly, "I mean it. If you care about anyone but yourself, _at all, _leave. No one wants you here." She gave him one last glare for the road, (returned by a raised eyebrow from Sonic), and she stalked off back to her children. _Wow. Just wow._

While he had been getting ready to leave to go find his friends, he decided to stay a little while longer, if only to aggravate the woman who for some reason seemed bent on chasing him off. He ordered a small side of fries from another stall and sat across the quad on another picnic table to much on them, _slowly_, and enjoy the excellent weather. Every so often he would glance out of the corner of his eye and see her doing the same. There was something vaguely familiar about her, that Sonic couldn't quite place. Either way, he didn't particularly care about what she had to think about him. Though as he finally decided he was finished annoying her, something Wolfe said echoed in the back of his mind. _People here tend to look down on outsiders. Many residents would do anything to prevent history from repeating._

Sonic gave one final glance at the woman he swore he knew but just couldn't place. She certainly didn't _look _like someone who would break into a hospital to steal files. _Even less than ethical things._

* * *

"Sooo…" Amy began, in the manner of someone who wanted to start a conversation, but wasn't sure how.

"So…?" Tails echoed back. "Something on your mind?"

They were sitting at a open air bar, with a red awning shading them from the sun. Though there was an indoors restaurant nearby, Amy had insisted on sitting outside, so that Sonic could find them easier when he finished his run.

What Amy _wanted _to ask was _hey, I know you've been best friends with Sonic forever and you're bound to know everything about him so could you please tell me all about his life? _But that didn't sound very tactful to her, so she was stuck trying to find a more roundabout way to talk about him.

"Do you think Sonic will really find his family?"

"Hard to say, really." Tails answered, frowning slightly. "I mean, he hasn't seen or heard from them, in like ten years. I don't want to say it to his face, but… it's pretty possible there _is _no family for him to find."

"It would be pretty hard on him if that were true." Amy agreed. "But I think it's at least better than not knowing."

"You think so?" he asked. He had never cared to learn about his parents. As far as he was concerned, they had stopped being his family since the day they dumped him on the orphanage's front door. It had been a lonely existence, to be sure, but that loneliness had subsided once he met Sonic. Up until two days ago, that was how he thought Sonic had felt too.

"Well, I mean, your imagination can mess with you in a lot of ways. If you don't know something for sure, you may spend all your nights imagining what _could _be."

"I guess you _would _be one to know." Tails agreed, and then immediately mentally slapped himself. What a thoughtless thing to say.

But luckily Amy didn't seem hurt, particularly. More like wistful. "Yeah." She agreed quietly. "I am."

Tails took a deep breath. It wasn't really a topic he wanted to address, but he felt like he needed to. "Hey, um, I want you to know that, uh… Sonic… when he does his thing, it's um… it's not really about you, per se. Well, what I mean is, I don't think he meant to… lead you on or anything, but… he… well…" Tails sighed. "I'm not good at this."

Amy actually laughed softly. "It's because you're young." She informed him. "Once you've been in love, or had somebody in love with you… you'll start to understand."  
"That's what everyone says."

Amy fiddled with her sandwich, apparently very interested in examining it closely. "On that other subject, though… I understand. I really do. I wanted Sonic for such a long time. I was so in love with him I ignored all the signs that said he wasn't interested, interpreted every friendly gesture as romantic, tried _everything _I could to _make _him love me. But I'm done with that now."

"I don't quite believe you." Tails said bluntly.

"I know." Amy agreed. "I guess… I'd be lying if I said I didn't love him anymore. I think there's a part of me that will _always _be in love with him, no matter what. But I understand now that that's just not going to happen. I know Sonic likes me, maybe even loves me, but as a friend. And one day, I woke up, and realized… that's not going to change, and I needed to live with that. And so I did. I made myself back off. It wasn't easy, but I finally grew up. And you know what? I'm actually a little happier now. Sure, things will never be the way I wanted them to be, but letting go of that dream actually made things a little easier. Since I didn't have to worry about being romantic, I could enjoy the time we _did _spend together. Since I didn't try to force him to be somebody he's not, I got to know who he _really _is. It's… nice, almost."

"Yeah." Tails agreed. "I've noticed that too. And I like it as well, honestly. It's fun, hanging out with you and Sonic. I gotta confess… since I was always backing up Sonic, and helping him give you the slip, I never really got to know you that well. But once I started to hang out with you… well… You're pretty cool, you know that?"

"As cool as Sonic?" She teased, and Tails laughed.

"Sorry, but _no one's _as cool as Sonic."

* * *

After dealing with a crazy lady like that right at the fountain, Sonic was hardly in the mood to deal with much more. Instead he just sent a text to Tails, saying he was tired and wanted to rest. It wasn't hardly a lie, he was tired in more ways than one. After all, he was used to alternating between wild runs and napping in the sunshine. Napping in his room was close enough. As he let himself in, the innkeeper, who was tidying up in the kitchen, peeked her head in to see who it was.

"Oh, hello, sir! Home early?"

"Yeah," Sonic said, "and please… Just Sonic. No honorifics necessary."

"Very well, then, Sonic." the Innkeeper replied amicably. "You can call me Callisto. Would you like a snack? I was just making something for myself. Hope you have a sweet tooth, though, because that's more or less all I can cook." She giggled self deprecatingly.

He hesitated. "Well… Why not?"

"Ok!" Callisto smiled brightly. "They'll be in for about another 20 minutes, then they'll be ready. Would you like me to bring some up for you?"

"That'd be great, thanks." Sonic smiled. The innkeeper reminded him of another kind, matronly woman who loved to bake. "I'm going to go up and take a nap real quick, ok?"

"Alright, I'll bring it up to you when it's ready!"

Heading up the stairs to his and Tails' shared room, he kicked off his shoes and lay flat on his back on the bed, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind.

He wasn't sure how long he napped, but when he woke up, the sky had darkened somewhat, though the last traces of the day still lingered. As he rolled over, his sensitive nose caught a wiff of vanilla, and he looked up to see a small plate on his bedside table. There was a note to the side of it. Smiling, he grabbed one and took a bite, reaching for the note which he presumed was from the Innkeeper. Sure enough, it read "_Sonic - noticed you were still asleep, and I didn't want to wake you. Hope you enjoy!"_

Setting the note aside for now, he dug into the cookie while pondering his next move. The festival was tomorrow, and as much as he hated sitting around, at least he would have the festivities to look forward to. Sonic loved holidays; being an excitable person himself it was always wonderful feeling everyone else catch on to his energy and happiness. There was something about holidays that just made everyone feel alive. Which was why, in his opinion, holidays should happen once a week. Maybe more.

As stood up, the note he had set beside him fell to the ground, and he stooped to pick it up. The note had landed upside down, and as he grabbed it, he saw something he hadn't noticed before. On the back side of the paper, another note was written in a cramped, spidery cursive:

"_Go to the Sleeping Bear and order a Bear Claw Special."_

Confused, Sonic flipped the note back over to the innkeeper's, but her handwriting was neat, loopy, and printed.

Flipping it back to the other side, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out who else could have written it. Amy's, too, was printed, and her i's were always dotted with hearts. Tails' handwriting was far messier, to the point where it was almost illegible. No one else knew he was here, so who…?

Folding up the note and stowing it, Sonic decided to head downstairs for the time being. Tails and Amy were down in the dining room, eating. Upon his arrival, Tails looked up and smiled, and Amy, seeing his reaction, quickly turned around and smiled as well. "Hey, how are you feeling?" Tails asked warmly.

"I'm alright." Sonic replied, just as lightly. "Sorry if I worried you, the run just took a little more out of me than I first thought."

"Pfft, as if you _don't _just alternate between running and taking naps all day."

"Hey, I resent that!" He snapped, but the smile never left his face as he pulled out a chair and forked over some food.

"Well, Tails and I had a good time. We had some lunch, then took a _walk, _so that we could actually _enjoy _where we were, around town. This place really is beautiful."

"Yeah," Sonic agreed. "I stopped to rest in this little plaza area - it was really peaceful."

For some reason, he held back on telling them about the strange woman he met in the plaza, or the note in his bedroom.

For a while, he sat and chatted with them, sharing their collective experiences about the village. Pretty soon, though, it grew late enough that Amy decided it was time to go to bed, and Tails followed not long after. Having only woke up a few hours ago, Sonic decided he could go for one last furious run before bed.

As he took off around the island, he couldn't help but recall the note tucked away on his person, and the cryptic advice it had. What was at The Sleeping Bear? Why would he need to go there, and more importantly, what did the notewriter want? Something told Sonic this was not an advertising stunt.

If only because the effort it would take to break into people's homes and write orders to go to the bar on random sheets of paper that happened to be lying around would be more labor intensive than just waiting for customers.

As he mulled it over, one thing stood out clear to him: like it or not, he _had _to take it's advice. Not only was it the only lead he had, by now he was far too curious not to find out. Completing his lap, he headed towards where they had eaten the previous night, slowing down to a jog as he came up to the front door.

As he walked in, a hostess came up and greeted him. "Good evening! Bar or restaurant?"

Sonic scratched one ear. "Bar, I guess."

"Alright." She replied cheerily. "Right this way please."

As she led him to the front of the bar, he noticed that there was actually a decent crowd for a weeknight. Sure, the place wasn't packed, and it wasn't particularly loud, but there was a decent amount of people.

He sat down on a stool, and the barkeeper noticed him and headed his way. "Hello, sir, would you like anything to drink?"

"Er, yes. Do you have the Bear Claw Special?" Sonic asked, half wondering if it was even a real thing. Maybe it was some kind of code word.

"Oh?" The bartender hesitated. "Yes, we stock it… But I'm afraid I don't know how to make it."

"You don't know how to make it?" Sonic repeated, raising an incredulous eyebrow. The bartender nodded.

"Only the owner knows the secret ingredient."

"Oh… I see."

"Would you like me to get her for you now?" She offered.

"Uh, yeah, could you? I _really _want a Bear Claw." Sonic said.

"Of course." She replied, then set down the rag she had been holding and went into a back door behind the bar. There was a few minutes of silence, during which Sonic had plenty of time to wonder just what exactly he was doing. Then again, he wasn't one to worry about such trivial things as plans or repercussions. If he needed a Bear Claw, he'd find a way to get a Bear Claw. There had to be _some _reason to get it. That, or he'd just get a (hopefully good) drink.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of grumbling, before one of the biggest mobians Sonic had ever seen came through the door, the other bartender following. She was a large brown bear, tugging on a vest just like the serving uniforms the other workers were wearing and grumbling. "Wake me up, mixing a _single friggin' drink…_"

"Uh oh," Someone nearby whispered, one of Sonic's sensitive ears turning in their direction. "Looks like Mama Bear's awake."

"You the one who orde-?" the owner said, stopping midsentence in front of Sonic.

"Yeah." He replied, once again remaining unintimidated. "One, please."

The owner remained frozen for another moment or two, and for a second Sonic wondered if there was something wrong. He knew newcomers in this town were rare, but surely they weren't _that _unheard of? After a second, however, she seemed to shake her head and snap out of it. "Just one? You woke me up for just one drink?" She asked gruffly, but there was something about her tone Sonic recognized.

"Yeah," he replied, completely at ease. "Unless I like it. Then maybe more."

"Hmph." she said, but part of her mouth was raised, proving to Sonic that it indeed had been a joke.

"Also," he added as an afterthought, "I don't know how much goes into that, but could you go easy on the alcohol?"

"Bear Claws are designed to knock you on your ass, son." She replied, busy setting ingredients out on the serving table.

"Well, I've never had any before, so…"

"Never?" She asked, pausing to look up at him. She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And _this _is the one you wanted?"

"Positive." He replied confidently.

"Hmph." As she began mixing ingredients, of which there were quite a number, she began to make conversation. "So… Are you new to the area? Everyone's come and gone to my place at least once, even if it's just for the food."

"Yeah, very." Sonic said. "I just got here the other day."

"Why'd you wanna come to a place like this?" She said, in a tone that _sounded _like she was trying to be nonchalant.

"Well, supposedly, I was here once, and I'd like to find out if it's true. Or if anyone can point me to where I came from."

"I see… Well, it's a long way to come for…" She trailed off for a moment, then suddenly slammed the bottle of liquor she was holding roughly on the counter. "Oh, to hell with it! Listen, are you Clary and Jonathan's kid, or aren't you?"

Taken off guard by both the question and the bear's sudden change in attitude, Sonic could only stammer, "Wh-what?"

The bear leaned in, her elbows on the table. "Are. You. Sonic?"

And the familiarity of his name kickstarted his heart, which began to beat faster, as only running could usually accomplish. "Yes! That's me! I'm Sonic..."

"Sonic the Hedgehog." She finished in unison with him. And she broke into a true smile, clapping a large paw over his shoulder (and pushing him slightly forward in the process). "I know. I knew you. I knew as soon as I saw you, I knew you had to be…" She huffed, half laugh and half sigh, as she gazed at him. "I don't suppose you remember your Auntie Joan?"

Sonic shook his head apologetically. "No, sorry."

"Ah, well," She said removing her hand and returning to the drink, "It's no real surprise. You _were _just a babe when you went missing, you know."

"Yeah. That's why I'm here now. You said you know my parents? Do you know where they are? Or how to find them?"

"Your father? Yes, he lives in one of the residential districts on the other side of town. Your mother… Well…" Joan sighed. "She's… not around anymore. Listen, I don't suppose you've heard about what happened here about 12 years ago?"

"I've heard that a thing happened here about a decade ago. That was more or less all anyone's told me."

"Yeah, no one's really keen on talking about it. Drives me crazy, honestly, but there's bugger all I can do about it. Especially when I have a business that thrives on being popular with people." She had finished mixing the drink, giving it a final few shakes before pouring it into a glass and presenting it to him. "Here, have a sip and tell me what you think."

Sonic obediently took the glass and put it to his lips, taking a generous gulp. A mistake, as it turned out, as almost immediately the alcohol hit him straight in his mouth and nose. The taste was bad enough, but no one had told him alcohol had some sort of… _fumes _that worked their way up into his nose and made it hard to breathe. Holding the glass far away from him, he turned his head and coughed roughly, shaking his head as if to clear the overpowering taste from his sinuses.

Joan apparently found this hilarious, as she threw back her head and cracked up, her hand slapping the counter. "Well, what do you think of your first adult drink?"

"Awful." Sonic replied, still coughing a little.

"Good. That's why that one's mine." She said, still grinning. She slid another glass over, of roughly the same color and consistency. "That one's yours."

Wearing the sheepish smile of someone who just got pranked and they knew it, Sonic handed Joan's back to her, taking his. This time he took only a tentative sip, but was glad to see the overpowering nature of the alcohol was absent this time. He was pretty sure he could still taste it, but it was masked by the flavor of the drink. It was good, flavored with quite a few spices and barely enough sweetness to be noticeable. He decided he liked this one a lot better, and took a proper drink.

"Much better." He told her.

"Be careful," Joan said, laughing. "Because the most dangerous drinks are the ones you can't taste the alcohol in. Good or no, drink that puppy slowly or you'll be sorry."

"Thanks for the advice." Sonic said putting it down for the time being and making a mental note. After all, if anyone were to give helpful advice about how to drink, it'd have to be a bartender.

"I didn't give you very much, so you should be fine. 'Less you're a lightweight like your father. You won't be whooping it up anytime soon, but you _will _sleep pretty soundly tonight, I reckon."

"That's fine by me." Sonic said. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Sonic." Joan said. "Which reminds me - hey, Mell!"

The rabbit that had been bartending before she went to fetch her quickly turned around and stood at attention. "Pass this around to the other staff - this boy here? He's with me. Anything he eats, anything he drinks, it's all on me, got it?"

"Yes, m'am!" She replied, and glancing once at Sonic (probably memorizing his face, he realized), turned back to the other end of the bar, where a waitress was waiting to pick up drinks.

"You didn't have to do that." Sonic said modestly. "Everything here is pretty cheap for the quality, so I don't mind-"

"Like hell you are." Joan interrupted. "I'm your auntie, and I get to spoil you if I want. It's one of the perks of the job. Besides, your mother was the only one who ever had that privilege. It's your birthright."

"Well, thanks." Sonic said. "Soooo, what was that about my father? The other side of town? Do you have his address?"

"I can do you one better." She replied. "He always comes in at around 5:30 every weekend, he'll be here tomorrow. Would you like me to reserve a place for you? I bet it'd be one hell of a surprise gift!"

"Would you?" Sonic asked. "I like surprise gifts too! Maybe it'll be a present for both of us!"

"Yeah, it probably will be." She agreed, looking at him fondly. "Don't you worry, now, I'll keep it a secret till the end."

"It's a pretty great coincidence, don't you think?" Sonic asked. "The festival about looking back on the past starts tomorrow, right? Imagine meeting your long-lost son on that day!"

"I'm not the type to believe in fate," Joan began, "But damned if that isn't one of the biggest cases I've seen for it yet."

"Well then, I guess I should go home and rest up. See you tomorrow?" Sonic asked, hopping off the barstool.

"Of course." Joan replied, ducking out of a side entry that connected the bar with the rest of the room. "C'mon, I'll walk ya outside."

It was nice outside, just this side of too cool for comfort, and the air as always smelled fresh and clean. Sonic stepped down into the streets and turned to wave goodbye to Joan, only to find himself wrapped up in a tight embrace, the likes of which forever solidified in his mind the meaning of the phrase _bear hug._ The arms wrapped around him were strong and firm, so much that it almost hurt, and his face was buried in her massive shoulder. "My god, I missed you." Joan said, softly, and her rough voice seemed even more strained than normal. "I can't believe how much you've grown."

Sonic was fairly claustrophobic. Being cramped in small spaces usually meant no running, and being wrapped up with his arms held by his sides as he was now, usually meant some kind of trap had been sprung. But he also knew that sometimes waves and handshakes weren't enough, and sometimes people _needed _hugs. So he tried to calm his breathing and push the anxiety away from him. She needed this hug badly, and who was he to deny it? Besides… There was something extremely nice about it. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on completely, or maybe that had to do with the lack of oxygen going to his brain. For a moment, he let his eyes close as she held him, the warmth and strength in her arms soaking in.

Her hug squeezed even tighter, then quickly released, as she stood up to attention. "Yes, well." She sniffed, trying to set herself up to rights. "You be careful now. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't cause trouble!"

"Good night." Sonic said, smiling.

"Good night." And the door swung closed.

Almost the second it hit the frame it opened again. "Sonic?" Joan asked.

"Huh? Yeah?" He replied, turning back around from where he was about to run off.

"I forgot to ask you something." She paused, looking oddly at him. "Your mother always liked to take runs when she was feeling stressed or needed to work out some tension. She was fast, too. Crazy so. I was wondering…?"

Sonic smiled gladly. So that's who he'd got it from. "Yeah, I do too."

"That's fantastic." She said, shifting her weight slightly. "You know where there's a great place to do some running? There are some old ruins on the southwest path outside of town. Great obstacle course. Maybe it'd be something you're interested in."

"Sounds awesome! I'm always up for a challenge."

"Good. Well, goodnight for real this time. Come by anytime you need a drink, or some food, or… anything. You're always welcome here."

"Alright, I will." Sonic nodded. "Goodnight… Auntie Joan." He said, trying out the sound of it. It was definitely not something he was used to… But there was something about it he liked. For a moment he could have sworn he saw her swallow hard, and then she shut the door.

And Sonic, for once, turned and walked back slowly.


End file.
